Roy, Riza, Rock and Roll
by ssadropout
Summary: Finally, here's the FINALE, and it's a nail-biter! XD Do the fugitives Roy and Riza escape to Aerugo? Do they make it in one piece well, really two pieces ? Was it all worth it? So much can go wrong so quickly. This is A/U.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N-** Let me get this out of the way: This is a fan fiction site. That means that I am a fan and not the owner of FMA. Are you shocked?

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_No More!_ launched into the final song of the night. It was their biggest hit- _Panic Attack_. The fans, some of which had traveled to Bolshanya from all over Drachma, screamed as the familiar opening notes buzzed through the sound system. Roy Mustang, singer and bass guitarist, looked ghostly on the stage. His black hair and clothes faded into the dark void generated by the spotlights. His normally pale skin seemed to have faded into a nearly transparent hoarfrost, and his black nail polish starkly contrasted with his paper white hands. His eyes were dark to begin with, and the midnight black eyeliner turned them into bottomless pools of ink. In contrast, lead guitarist and other lead singer Jean Havoc's hair flickered like golden flames. He hunched his lanky body over his guitar and concentrated on his complex solo. Havoc could occasionally get lost in one of his sonic feats, but the steady rhythm of Vato Falman's drums kept everything together. Havoc began singing the opening line, and many people in the audience mouthed the words along with Jean's singing. Fists pumped the air. _Panic Attack_ was like an anthem to many disenfranchised young people. Roy floated over to Jean's microphone to join him for the chorus; their faces were so close that they seemed to touch. They had met in their late teens where they established a strong friendship. When they shared a microphone, there was a somehow extra-charged sexual energy that they emitted. They weren't lovers- never had been and didn't want to be, but when they sang together like that, they each seemed stronger, sexier, and more magical. The crowd roared as the song ended. The three musicians thanked their audience and strode off of the stage.

The security guards cleared a path for the three men who proceeded to their dressing room and lounge. The two-and-a-half hour concert had been draining, and they had already spent the afternoon autographing photos, CDs, and almost whatever (though there were certain items that they would not sign!) for their fans. Still, they were always determined to give their audience their money's worth, so they had thrown themselves into the performance.

The three musicians flopped onto the sofa opposite four members of the Drachman press. They were only the second Amestrian band to play in Drachma, which still did not have comfortably friendly relations with Amestris. Briggs was always on alert in the north, but the problems were between the two governments and the militaries, not the music lovers. There were no borders when it came to the arts. Of course, the journalists didn't see it that way, and they asked lots of political questions. Havoc kept telling them that the band wasn't political and had no political views, but the reporter from the Drachma Daily insisted that their playing in Drachma was in itself a political act. He wasn't wrong, but they continued to deny being political and hoped that they didn't come across as coy or false. The band cooperated with the journalists for well over an hour, and if the press had been paying very close attention, they might have noticed Mustang, who had been sitting in the middle, discreetly nudge his band mates. Havoc, the most outgoing and congenial of the three grinned his big open grin and asked the reporters to take pity on them and let them clean up and rest. They obliged, and the Amestrians were alone. Jean lit a cigarette, and Vato picked up a large volume on the history of Drachma. Roy didn't change from his black outfit, but he removed his eyeliner, donned a jacket, pulled a cap over his eyes, and went out of the arena and into the night.

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Riza Hawkeye smiled enchantingly at the tall tuxedoed man as she sipped from her flute of Asti Spumante. Her spun-gold hair was in an elegant twist, and her ears sparkled with rubies that brought out the red in her lips and eyes. Her black dress was both classy and sexy, which was how just about everybody described the lady herself. The tall man was with the Cretan delegation to Drachma. Like most of the other Foreign Service people in Drachma, he was drawn to the lovely wife of the Amestrian functionary as a moth is drawn to a flame. Her intelligence and charm had made her well-known and much sought after in diplomatic circles. As she and the beguiled Cretan chatted and laughed, Heymans Breda joined them, and with a smile, he put an arm around his wife and kissed her cheek. At first glance, many thought of Heymans and Riza as the oddest possible couple. He was not a very good-looking man, and she possessed a quiet but intense beauty that men coveted and women envied. But Breda was a man of great intelligence, and anyone who spent any amount of time with the couple could tell that they were very compatible, even if they seemed to lack chemistry.

"I'm sorry to steal my lovely wife away from you, but I really must speak with her immediately. Please forgive us," Breda asked the Cretan, who smiled sadly as he bowed his acquiescence. Riza tilted her head and returned the Cretan's regretful smile. "I hope to see you again very soon," she murmured as she extended her hand, which the Cretan caught and kissed. Breda put his hand on the small of his wife's back and led her towards the doorway.

"Did the Cretan say anything interesting?" Breda asked when they were too far away to be overheard.

"Nothing that I recognized as important, but who am I to say? I'll include it in the package. Thanks for extracting me. I'd better go get it together. The courier is due in just over an hour," Riza spoke softly to Heymans. He nodded and then kissed her cheek again. "I'll join you back at our rooms later," he told her before she left through the ornate double doors of the hall.

She proceeded out of the Cretan Embassy and into the night where the wind loosened her hair. It was chillier than she had anticipated, so she was relieved when her limousine driver immediately appeared at the bottom of the steps. He began to run up the steps to help her down, but she waived him to stop. As she finished descending the stairs, the driver returned to the limo and eased it up to the foot of the steps. He opened the limo's rear door, and Riza slid gracefully into the vehicle. The driver was well trained, and the limo was gently warm. He slipped back into the driver's seat, and without speaking drove her to the Amestrian Embassy where her husband and she had a suite. The chauffeur, who also had several other valuable skills, accompanied her through the halls of the embassy to her rooms. He opened the door and pulled a device from his pocket. After sweeping the rooms with his device, he nodded at Riza who thanked and dismissed him. She toed off her four-inch heels, sat down at her vanity, and opened her makeup drawer. She reached in, and with a practiced tap of one of her immaculately polished scarlet fingernails, she unlocked and slid open a nearly undetectable compartment. She withdrew a small silicon chip and a couple of papers that, after adding coded notes about the night's conversations, she wrapped around the chip. She tucked these into a small manila envelope.

She stood, slipped off the black dress, and carefully hung it up. After unclasping and rolling down her silk hose, she wrapped herself in a silk Xingese robe and matching slippers. Riza placed the envelope with the papers and the chip in the robe's left hand pocket and a pistol into the right. She had done this many times, but one could never be too careful. She flung a light blanket over her shoulders before walking out onto the balcony where she lithely sat herself on the rocking chair and waited.

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Mustang, who in person looked smaller and younger than he did on stage or in photos, especially when not wearing eyeliner, easily blended into the crowd of young adults leaving the concert. He needed the cover of the small crowd that had lingered after the concert, but he was concerned that he might be late for his rendezvous. Well, his contact would just have to be patient. If anyone in the group recognized him as _No More_'s bassist, he'd be mobbed. He hoped to avoid that, but it would be better than being caught sneaking off alone in this harsh country. He boarded one of the buses that were still waiting outside to take people away from the arena, and he rode it for a couple of miles to his stop. Several concertgoers got off with him, and they all waved goodbye to each other. They didn't all know each other, but they had shared a dynamic experience, a collective euphoria. Roy crossed the street with a wave of his own and disappeared into the small park.

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Riza plopped onto the bed with uncharacteristic abandon. The hand off to the courier had gone smoothly, but that particular courier really irked her. There must not have been any reported issues with him, because the chiefs continued to use him, but she neither liked nor trusted him. She disliked how he looked at her with raking eyes, but it was more than that. Well, it might be her problem, because he knew who she was and therefore had power over her, but she had no authority to do anything about it.

She lay back in bed and closed her eyes. It had been a long, tiring, and boring day. Riza may have played the part of the delightfully witty beauty very well, but that's what it was to her- a role to be played. She was really a woman of action, not acting, and the social whirl of the diplomats did not appeal to her. The pistol that she had slipped into her robe pocket had been no idle threat. She was an expert markswoman, and she was well trained in multiple martial arts. However, the powers-that-be had determined that she was more valuable flirting tidbits of information from the foreign dignitaries than playing spy versus spy. The government had, she had learned long ago, kept tabs on her from her time at the university. They had liked that she was a polyglot as well as cool under pressure, and her looks didn't hurt. She knew that "they" had manipulated her into a relationship with Heymans, then a rising star in the diplomatic corps, but that had worked out well enough. He was a good man, intelligent and kind. There had never been any sparks between them, but she believed herself to be a rational woman and Heymans to be a sound choice as a husband. She certainly did not believe in love. Heymans wasn't back from the party, yet, and that disappointed her a little. He would have told her that what she was doing was important, and then he would have made her laugh. He would have warmed her with his portly but cuddly body. They really did get along. His only flaw was his insane and inexplicable fear of dogs. Oh, how she would love to have a puppy. She chuckled as she imagined herself kicking an evil-looking foe in the face as her dog bit his leg. What a team they'd be! Her little fantasy ushered her into the land of dreams.

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**A/N**- Yeah. I think that Breda _might_ be cuddly. I see the band as kind a cross between Green Day and Nirvana but with super virtuoso guitar like in the old Cream or Jimi Hendrix Experience. The band is LOUD! The thing with Havoc and Mustang sharing the microphone is from having watched Joe Perry and Steven Tyler of Aerosmith. I'm not really into Yaoi, but Steven and Joe at the same microphone was one of the hottest things I've ever seen. Riza is loosely modeled after Valerie Plame, the diplomat's wife who was outed as a spy by the Bush administration in retaliation for her husband's unfavorable reports. Many thanks for reading. Puleeze review.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N-** Item number one- You guessed it! I am but a mere fan of Arakawa, creator of FMA.

Item number two- The title of the story was supposed to be Roy _slash _Riza _slash_ Rock and Roll. The slashes disappeared into the ozone.

Item number three- Thank you, xRockerxPrincessx, Dailenna, and Wolfborg007 for the reviews. Also thanks to all who read chapter one and liked it enough to come back for more.

Item number four- Here is chapter two. I hope that you enjoy it.

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Roy waited five minutes in the shadows near the entrance to the park. He then emerged and walked across the street and around the corner. He didn't care for this convoluted cloak and dagger stuff. He knew that the intel came from the Amestrian embassy. How hard would it have been to invite _No More!_ to the embassy? It would have seemed perfectly natural and would not have raised suspicion. On the other hand, an Amestrian in this part of town at this time of night would get all kinds of attention if discovered. His cover story, if he were to be stopped by Drachman authorities, was that he was trying to buy drugs. That bothered him on so many levels.

He ducked down an alley and was met by his contact.

"Have you got a smoke?" the man in the shadows asked Roy in Drachman-accented Amestrian.

"Sorry, pal, that stuff will kill you," Mustang replied using the appropriate code phrase.

"You're late," complained the man.

"Sorry, pal," Roy repeated with a shadowed smirk.

"I don't have all day, I mean night. I could have just left and taken this to someone else. I might make more money on the open market."

Mustang got serious. " I apologize. It was out of my control. I got here as promptly as I could. Really."

"I guess that it happens, but 'quickly in, quickly out' is the law of the land in this business," warned the Drachman.

Roy debated for two seconds on whether he should make a quip about a "business" where "quickly in, quickly out" was _against_ the "law of the land," and decided against it. This contact was pretty iffy, and he didn't want to push him very far. "I thank you for the good advice," he said instead, "and I plan to follow it. Shall we do so now? You have something for me."

"If you have the money, I have the package."

"Then we're in business," Roy said, once again getting a small kick out of parroting words used earlier in the conversation. He pulled out a cash-stuffed envelope, and the Drachman flourished a manila envelope. They made the exchange and the Drachman counted the money. Each man then disappeared into the night.

Roy wasn't particularly pleased with this part of the situation, either. He would have to hold onto this package for close to three weeks while _No More! _continued its tour in Drachma, and he'd also have to pick up another couple of pieces of information. He didn't like endangering his band mates and crew. At least the next pickup wasn't an asinine situation like this one.

Nor did he like being a delivery boy. He had _skills_. He had entered the Amestrian Institute of Technology at the age of sixteen and graduated with highest honors three years later. He didn't like to brag, but he was quite clever at making something out of nothing, well, almost nothing. He could rig up games, machines, and weapons, whatever he wanted, from whatever flotsam and jetsam were lying around. Roy called it "creative engineering." Why couldn't his talents be better utilized? He understood that his band's ability to travel through Drachma with relatively few nuisance searches or arrests made him useful in this particular way, but he still didn't care for his lot. But, whatever Amestris thought it needed from him was what he'd try to give.

He glanced at his watch and strode briskly back towards the bus stop. The bus back to the hotel should be arriving any minute now. He pulled his cap down lower as he walked. The bus came only minutes after Mustang's arrival at the bus stop, and he was relieved to see several people still riding the vehicle despite the hour. He made it back to the hotel without incident.

Mustang couldn't sleep. He wondered how the Amestrians recruited their foreign operatives. The man that had handed Roy the package seemed ultra sleazy and none too bright. He wondered why a middleman was used in such an exchange. The more the people involved, the more that could go wrong. Why hadn't he been sent to the embassy to pick up the package from the person who had procured the information? It just seemed that things would be better with that guy out of the equation. When he got back to Amestris, he'd report the man's threat to take the package to the highest bidder, but he had a feeling that his handler would just say that the words were typical and meaningless.

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Riza woke up to find that Heymans had joined her in bed while she slept. She wanted to talk, but she didn't want to wake him. His facial expression was so much more relaxed than when he was awake. He had probably stayed up late writing one of his _official _reports (_her_ work was _unofficial_) that Bradley's government usually chose to ignore but sometimes chose to reprimand him for. Heymans Breda was too honest for his own good in his assessments of political, social, and economic situations. He insisted on telling the government what he believed to be true. Reporting what Bradley and his cronies wanted to hear would have been a better choice career-wise. While Breda was well liked in Drachma and the other countries in which he had worked, he had enemies in all the wrong places. At home in Amestris. Part of the reason that Riza had gotten involved in information collection- espionage- was to curry favor for her husband.

She glanced at the clock and decided that she might as well rise and shine. She eased her way out of bed so as not to wake her husband, but she came out of the shower to find him still in bed but awake.

"Good morning, Hey. What time did you finally get to sleep? I hope that I didn't wake you," Riza spoke.

"No, Rize, you didn't. I got to bed about one-thirty. I just woke up on my own. I didn't even hear you. How did the transfer go?"

"Smoothly enough. It was the shifty-eyed guy. I do not trust him further than I could shot put him," she complained. "He mentioned that he was meeting a new delivery boy. Don't you think that indicates that he has a big mouth?" she asked.

"Well, your information must be getting through, or I'm sure that we'd have heard about it. Of course, the intel could be going somewhere else as well, but someone must have vetted your contact. Frankly, I think that Bradley and his administration are more dangerous to us than any spies. Your contact may be a creep, but I think that he's just in it for the money. As long as he gets his payment, he'll behave. You should mention it to your handler anyway." Breda sighed and sat up.

"I have something to tell you, Rize. I've done something that could bring reprisals. I've released two of my reports to the press. They're nothing too damaging to Bradley. I don't even mention that I am convinced that he's directly involved with both incidents. I'm tired of banging my head against Bradley's wall of secrecy, greed, and ignorance. The people of Amestris will never know the truth if I leave it to the fuehrer, and they should know what is going on. Bradley's not going to like it. I know that you can handle yourself, but be careful. I'm concerned that he may try to punish me through you."

"Don't worry about me. I am always careful, Hey. You did the right thing. You are very courageous," Riza told him.

"Did I? Am I?" he asked. "Do I deserve a reward?" He smiled and patted the mattress beside him as if he were calling a cat.

"Oh, Hey, I just showered, and I have an appointment at nine. If you'd come to bed at a decent hour…"

"I know. I'll try, Rize. It sure would be nice to spend so quality time alone with you," Breda sighed.

"The feeling is mutual. What would you like me to make you for breakfast? I have time for that. I'll have it ready when you finish your shower, and then I'll leave," Riza offered.

"Surprise me, Rize. You know what I like." He was pleased. Breakfast wasn't an adequate substitute for sex for most people, but for Heymans Breda it was a pretty close second.

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Roy slept until ten when Havoc and Falman knocked on his hotel room door. They looked pretty well rested for rock musicians. Like Roy, the other two members of _No more!_ tried to not be tripped up by the trappings and perils of rock stardom. They generally succeeded, but it was rarely easy. There were flocks of willing young ladies and even a few young men who desired _No More!'s _time and bodies. There were people offering drugs that could make one extra sensitive or super numb, pills that could show a person things that were invisible when one was straight, and balms to ease insomnia and tension.

Havoc was a chain smoker and had decided long ago that that would be his only "medicinal" vice other than the occasional intake of spirits. Falman, who was a bit older than Havoc and Mustang, had grown up in a freer time and had experimented with various substances in his younger days. He had given it all up over a decade ago. Mustang was the most emotional and the most vulnerable of the three, but with his mission always on his mind, he managed to avoid most of the pitfalls of the rocking lifestyle.

As much as he loved playing in the band, Roy had always planned to use his talents to help people. He'd always liked constructing machines and building things, so he had ended up training as an engineer. After he finished at AIT, he had considered becoming a doctor, but when the Agency approached him, the romance and the drama of espionage had drawn him like a magnet. Roy could and did keep his mouth shut. Falman and Havoc had theories about where Roy went off to when he disappeared, but something about Roy's manner prevented them from asking him about it.

The three men traipsed down to the hotel dining room together, discussing their performance. The set had gone very well, but each of the three often came up with new ideas about how to do different songs. They were basically a power trio with alternative leanings, but Falman had listened to a lot of jazz, and it came out in a few of their songs. Mustang had gone through an acoustic-folk-singer-song-writer phase at AIT before he had switched from guitar to bass (partly because Havoc was a much better guitarist). Many of his songs from that period sounded much better with the amps turned up, the drums and bass pounding, and Havoc's guitar wailing. On the other hand, Havoc was beginning to think that _Don't Apologize_ might be more compelling done acoustically. All three were open minded, so the agreed that they'd give it a try, tape it, and decide after listening.

Vato and Jean ordered eggs with bacon and home fries. Roy, who could barely manage to sit at a table with anyone eating eggs without feeling ill let alone actually ingesting them, ordered the Drachman version of pancakes, _blentseri_. The three commiserated over not having any time to take in the sights and sounds of Bolshanya, the Drachman capital. Being a rock musician may have been one of the greatest jobs in the universe, but there were negatives. They all would have loved to experience the local music scene, but they had another concert to play in Yertsin that night. They'd have to leave within the next hour or so. Roy's Yertsin pick up was before tonight's concert, so he encouraged his friends to chow down already.

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**A/N- **My cat Tohru, a beautiful Calico named for _Fruits Basket_'s sweetie Tohru Honda, would love it if I received a ton (or even a kilo) of reviews. She knows they make me happy. Thank you!


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N- **Hello! Is anyone out there who still wants to read this story? (I hope that the answer is, "yes.") I apologize abjectly for not working on this for so long. Unfortunately, two of my strongest traits are laziness and disorganization. Hopefully, I have begun to break through those two obstacles. I have a lot of chapter 4 done, too.

If I had the talent to create and own FMA, I would have been _on_ the panels at Philcon this weekend instead of in the audiences.

* * *

_Now this is more like it _thought Roy as he walked into the bookstore, his rendezvous location. Yertsin was a college town, so the selection of books was much more eclectic than in an average bookstore. There was even a section of Amestrian-language books, making it not at all weird that a non-Drachman-speaking Amestrian would browse there. "First things first_,_" Roy mumbled to himself. He perused the shelves until he found the book that he wanted, _Drachman for Dummies_. It was this particular book that would identify him to his contact.

He strolled over to the Amestrian section and pulled a volume about Amestrian music off of the shelf. It was a book that he knew well and would not look odd for him to examine. As much as he would have enjoyed more closely examining other books, it was more important that he be aware of his surroundings and that he be able to respond easily if someone spoke to him about the books he held.

A Drachman man just a few years older than Roy approached him with a smile. "Don't you find the title of that book rather insulting?" Roy was asked.

"Indeed insulting, but perhaps sadly apt," Roy replied according to the protocol.

"Heh. Most of us are dummies when learning something new. What do you think of Drachma?"

This man couldn't have been more different from the first contact. He seemed almost friendly to Mustang. Roy smiled ruefully and said, "I'm here on business. I wish that I had more time to see the sights and meet the people." He'd already slipped the money envelope between the two books he was holding, and he observed that his contact had done the same with the envelope of intelligence.

"Ah. The people. It is quite sad that you do not have the opportunity to acquaint yourself with my fellow citizens. I think that if it were up to the people of our countries, you and I would not have to be doing this exchange." They exchanged the envelopes. "I haven't seen very much fundamentally different between most of the Amestrians I have met and us Drachmans. Your music is a case in point," said the Drachman.

Roy was a bit unnerved that his nameless contact knew who he was, but he recovered quickly. "I couldn't agree with you more. Music, literature, and the other arts transcend borders. We in the band have had a great time playing with your local musicians. We all play the same language," Mustang replied. "Like you, I also believe that the Drachmans and Amestrians have much in common." _The biggest difference between us is the governments_, he thought, but refrained from saying.

"Well, perhaps the next time we meet, it will be for a friendly meal. I, Mikail Ostrov, wish you good luck, young Roy Mustang of Amestris."

"And I wish the same to you, kind Mikail Ostrov. Until next time." Roy half waved, half saluted, and exited the store. _This totally sucks_, he thought. _My first contact was an unstable creep, and my second contact knows who I am. He seemed nice, but he's a __**spy**_._ Did he even tell me his true name? Maybe it's good that I'm just a simple messenger boy. I'm not important enough for anyone to eliminate me. _Was this really the way to do good for his country? But what else could he really do? He certainly didn't want to be in a situation where he'd have to kill someone. _Could I even? _Roy trudged back to the hotel in thought. He had a concert to play.

* * *

Riza's garnet eyes widened as she read the newspaper. Heymans had not exaggerated in the least when he had stated that the reports he'd released to the press might cause repercussions. There was no way that Bradley would let this go without punishment. Serious punishment. Her husband had really gone too far. He had even allowed his name to be used in the article. Well, it would have been tracked back to him, anyway, but Heymans had definitely fired the first shot in a futile war. She wondered when the reprisals would come and in what form. She felt a frisson of fear but decided to just go on as if everything were normal.

She had a lot to do that day. She needed to work out at the gym, and she really wanted to get to the target range. She hadn't practiced her shooting in over a week. Mostly she had been shooting because she liked it and, theoretically, to protect herself. She wondered if protecting herself would become less theoretical now that her husband had done his crazy deed. _Was it possible that Bradley would want Heymans (and/or me) dead? _She decided that she'd better get going, because she and Breda were supposed to appear at a dinner and award ceremony that evening. After calling for the limo, she stood, grabbed her bag that was already packed with exercise clothes and pistols, and headed for the door where her guard would meet her.

Riza's workout went well. The gym was nearly empty, and she was able to use the equipment for as long as she wanted. She was naturally athletic and had always believed in the body/ mind connection. As a child, her boundless energy had sent her running up and down the hills of her town. When her father had refused to indulge her wishes for gymnastic training, she convinced her school friends to spend recess teaching her what they had learned in their private tumbling classes. And now, she intended to keep her body as supple as possible as long as possible.

After she showered, she and her chauffeur/ guard continued on to the firing range. The guard laughed as he watched Riza shoot. "You should be guarding me. I swear that you're the better shot."

Riza laughed. "Maybe. But you're the better driver."

All of the activity had kept her concern about the reactions to her husband's papers at a dull throb, but now the volume increased to deafening. "Let's go to the library," she said. "I'd like to take a look at all of the newspapers."

The library had newspapers from all over the world. Along with all of the major Drachman dailies, there were papers from Amestris, Creta, and Aerugo. Much to Riza's dismay, each and every major newspaper had an article about her husband's disclosures. With growing agitation, she directed the chauffeur to take her home where she called Breda.

"Hello, my love," he greeted her. "How has your day been?"

"Do you have any idea what you have done, Hey?" Her usually cool and calm voice betrayed her apprehension.

"I did what I_ had_ to do, Rize. It had to be done. I wish that I weren't the one to do it, but no one else took the step."

"Oh, Hey. You are so brave and foolish. And you are really in trouble. You know that Bradley is going to find a way to punish you. To hurt you badly." The tears that were welling in her eyes felt weird. Riza rarely cried.

"We'll talk about it later. Don't worry about it."

"Don't worry about it?" She was all but screaming.

"We'll discuss it when I get home. I promise. I'll … be careful, but Bradley won't want to do anything too extreme to me. I really believe that."

"I wish that I could, too," Riza replied.

* * *

Breda came home from work a little early, and they sat and talked before they dressed for the evening. His argument was that Bradley was being pressured by the leaders of other nations to use restraint in foreign and domestic affairs. The rest of the world viewed Amestris' leader as aggressive and power hungry. Most of Bradley's advisors, Kimblee withstanding, advocated a more relaxed approach. "It's good that so many papers picked up the story. The world will be watching, and Bradley knows it."

She did feel calmer. Her husband's argument did make sense. They got dressed and proceeded to the pre-ceremony dinner. He nearly had her convinced.

* * *

Roy was feeling bored _and_ nervous. The concert had gone well, but he had come down from the high of the performance very quickly. The band had met with the journalists prior to the concert this time. That was a much better plan. He was usually either too wound up or too tired after a concert, or even worse, both simultaneously. He had had no secret assignations for a couple of days, so he was free to do as he pleased. Havoc and Falman had gone to a club with a group of Drachman musicians, but Roy wasn't in the mood to be around people. Kain, one of the roadies drove him back to the hotel, and he tried to relax with a long shower. It didn't lighten his mood, but it did wash away all of the sweat, and that was an improvement of sorts. He flopped onto the mushy hotel bed and tried to clear his mind. _I wish that I knew how to meditate, though I might even be too anxious for that to help. _

Too antsy to lie still, he rolled out of the bed and began examining the featureless room. He opened all of the drawers and then the closet. What he saw there made him smile faintly. He took the thin plastic dry cleaner's bag off of the hanger and rolled it lengthwise. He then looped knots about every nine inches along the length of plastic. Next, he tied the plastic "rope" onto the wire hanger and hung it from a grid bar in the dropped ceiling. After carefully centering an empty metal trash can under his "creation," he flicked off the light switch and pulled a book of matches from his pocket. He struck a match and lit the bottom of the plastic cord. Back on the bed, he watched as the burning plastic dropped into the can knot by knot. The dark and the falling flames reminded him of a meteor shower. And knot-by-knot, he felt himself begin to relax.

ZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ

**A/N**- I hope that this chapter was interesting to you and that those Zs above were not from you falling asleep from boredom. **PLEASE** **DO NOT **set fire to a cleaner's bag. This was something that I vaguely remember seeing many years ago. We most certainly were in no state to be playing with fire. I just really wanted to have a Roy and fire scene.

Thank you for reading. Please review. Please. Please.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N**-Is ssadropout the owner of Fullmetal Alchemist? (Select one) yes *****NO*********

Thank you, **Emma Mustang**, for your review. Thanks also to **verunder** and **Dragonlover71491** for making two of my other stories favorites.

* * *

After his light show, Roy's nerves had surrendered to his exhaustion, and he'd managed to fall asleep. He woke up somewhat refreshed in the morning. Outside his hotel room door was the Amestrian-language version of the prior day's _Drachma Daily_. Roy had been unable to get his hands on one of the Amestrian papers yesterday, as the bookstore had been sold out by the time he had arrived. The day after the _Drachma Daily_ was published in Drachman, the other-language versions came out. Roy's preference would have been to read both Amestrian and Drachman news, but one paper was better than none. One could call Roy's diligence in keeping up with the news a bit obsessive, but he believed that it was essential for him to keep up with world politics.

His eyes widened as he read Heymans Breda's article and the Drachman reaction. _Holy shit_. _The article is brilliant, but the man must be crazy_. Roy had never heard of Breda, and he wondered how such a loose cannon had gotten a diplomatic position in Bradley's government and managed access to privileged information. Since he had a decent block of free time, Roy decided to spend some time at the university library. With some luck, there'd be Amestrian-language sources of information about Heymans Breda. Roy's curiosity had been piqued.

There was a soft knock at his door, and Falman and Havoc were outside when it opened it. The three went down to the dining room to eat a Drachman brunch of pickled fish and the thin pancakes filled with cheese, the _blentseri_. The other two band members told Roy about the beauty of the Drachman girls and the tang of the potato whiskey that they had drunk at the club. Both men had used discretion, and neither was worse for the wear despite their late night.

Roy was anxious to begin his study of Breda, but he decided that spending time with his friends was at least as important. The three had a cheery chat as they ate, and Havoc and Falman, who had been concerned about Roy's behavior felt relieved.

The university was only about five blocks from the hotel, so Roy strolled towards the institution. He had found a map of the campus at the hotel, and a clerk had shown him which building was the library. The Drachman alphabet was completely different than the Amestrian one, so Roy's reading selections would be limited. An Amestrian-speaking librarian was able to guide him to a section that was likely to have the information that Roy sought.

Clearly, Heymans Breda was an accomplished man. Roy realized that he was being petty when he thought that a man who looked like that would _have_ to be good to get ahead. Breda looked like a dumb thug, but he'd proven that he had great intellect. He'd written detailed and intelligent analyses and recommendations for many aspects of foreign policy. Once again, Roy puzzled over how a man with those views had gotten appointments with Bradley's administration.

Paging through the materials, Roy found a photo of Breda with his wife. _Wow!_ _She's stunning!_ As long as he could remember, most of the people that he knew did not share his black hair and narrow black eyes, and the one girl whom he had long ago thought he might love had had light brown hair and blue eyes. An attraction to that color combination had continued and seemed to be hard-wired into him. He had dated his fair share of blonde girls, but they had never hit it off, nor had he had the same visceral immediate draw as he had to the light brown-haired blue-eyed ladies. Somehow, this woman was different, and now, he wanted to know more about_ her_. He found some biographical information. Her name was Riza Hawkeye, and she was interesting in her own right. _I wonder if she is as tough as her name._ She was a year older than he, and she had studied literature and languages. She was fluent in both Drachman and Aerugan. She'd done some literary criticism and had even published several short stories of her own, though none was in this particular library. An interview in a Drachman women's magazine mentioned that she was a marksman. Roy chuckled. _She'd make a better spy than I do!_ _She's intriguing and might be good at intrigue. She might have to be after what Breda did._

He read a little more about Mr. and Mrs. Breda. In retrospect, he wished that the band had been invited to the embassy when they had played the capital. Normally he would be happy to avoid that BS, but the Bredas could probably keep even soccer games from being boring. He wondered what they'd think of him. He looked at the last photograph that he had found of Riza Hawkeye. _Her eyes look deep and full of sadness. _Having decided that he had satisfied his curiosity about Heymans Breda, he returned the material to the circulation desk. As he exited the library, he shrugged off his eerie reaction to Hawkeye's photos and bio.

Roy strolled back to the hotel and packed, as it was getting close to departure time. Their next concert was at another college only two hours away. The three friends passed the bus ride playing cards and gabbing.

* * *

Heymans and Riza did get to bed at a normal hour, and they did get to bed at the same time, an increasingly rare event. While the awards ceremony had monopolized their night, it had ended just a little after ten, giving them some time to discuss their situation. It didn't make for the most romantic pillow talk, but candid discussion had always worked for them. Breda repeated that, with the world's eyes upon him, Bradley would do his best to at least _appear_ reasonable. Riza continued to voice her misgivings. When Bradley was not openly vindictive, she argued, he was often being surreptitiously malicious.

Riza rolled over with her back to her husband, and he edged over toward her side of the bed, scooping her to him. Heymans was pudgy, but he, too, worked out, and a lot of his bulk was muscle. Riza was a woman who didn't want to _need_ a man, but that didn't mean that she didn't want the comfort a man could give. And after what he had done, comfort was the least he could give her.

* * *

The next few days passed routinely for the Bredas and _No More!_ Heymans went to work and did his job as if nothing remarkable had transpired. Riza exercised, practiced shooting, gave a speech at a university's contemporary literature society, and visited a children's hospital along with other activities. _No More! _continued its tour. Roy had only one easy pick-up and pretty much enjoyed himself hanging out with Havoc and Falman when the band wasn't performing. They had been good friends for a long time, and they always enjoyed each other's company, unless Roy was in one of his "moods." Their friendships were part of the synergy that enabled them to create their music.

Riza had begun to believe that all would be fine, that her husband had been correct about Bradley. She felt light-hearted as she and Heymans dressed for the party at the Xingese Embassy. Maybe Bradley had even taken Hey's reports in the spirit of constructive criticism and was considering changes. It might not be likely, but it was _possible_. Not only was she in a relaxed mood, but she also was actually looking forward to the Xingese affair. The embassy was furnished and decorated with exotically beautiful Xingese furniture, antiques, and art; and the Xingese men and women wore the most striking fashions. She'd begun to study the language, which fascinated her, and she was looking forward to ascertaining if she could understand any conversation. She smiled for the first time in days.

The party chatter was noisy enough to be heard through the heavy teak door. The doorman opened the door, and Heymans and Riza entered.

It was the auditory equivalent of a blackout. Instead of the waves of lights extinguishing in one building after another in succession, there was a cascade of silence as the party attendees became aware of the Bredas' presence. It seemed that everyone in the room turned to look at the Bredas, and they froze in place. Even more disturbing to Heymans and Riza were the expressions on the others' faces. The reactions ranged from anger to fear to astonishment. Riza was perplexed. _What was going on?_ Everyone had known about Breda's article, and no one had behaved this way before.

As the Bredas resumed their progress through the room, people began to turn away and gradually return to whatever had occupied them a minute ago. Nobody greeted or approached them. After getting a drink, Riza noticed the Cretan that she had charmed a couple of weeks ago standing nearby. When he saw her gaze fall on him, he turned away. Puzzled, she approached him.

"I really have nothing to say to you, Mrs. Breda!" he barked at her before turning on his heel and rushing away.

Riza knew the term "jaw-dropping," but she had never experienced it until now. For a couple of seconds, she thought that she might have to push up on her chin with her hand to close her mouth, but she was finally able to control her jaw muscles. She scanned the room for her husband and saw him standing with Kenneth Darnell, one of his co-workers and a friend. Breda's mouth was open much as Hawkeye's had been, and when he managed to shut it, his expression morphed into one of anger and then worry.

He turned to scan the room for his wife, and his eyes, which were full of questions and fear, rested on her walking towards him. When she was close enough, he whispered, "My love, you were right, and I was wrong."

**A/N**- The consensus seems to be that Roy is older than Riza, but I wanted her to be a little older for this fic. Thank you for reading. I hope that you are enjoying. I would really enjoy reviews, reviews, and more reviews.


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N-** I just felt like mentioning that I really love the international aspect of this site. I frequently look to see what countries people who have read my stories hail from, and I like to see the nations of the authors of the stories that I read. I am truly awed by how many people are proficient in multiple languages. My parents made me take Latin in high school, so I did not have the opportunity to learn a language that I could use with other people. I took French after college, but I've lost it due to lack of use. Anyway, part of why I made Riza be a polyglot is to shout out to those of you who have multiple languages. You are so cool!

My next shout out is to **little miss clueless **and **Kilala-kun** for favoriting (is that a word?) and reviewing or subscribing. Tohru the cat sends her thanks, too.

My last shout out is to Hiromu Arakawa, the wonderful creator of the wonderful FMA 'verse.

* * *

"My love, you were right, and I was wrong."

Heymans Breda nearly always exuded an air of calm, but his mien was far from composed. Riza refrained from speaking- or was unable to speak- and waited for her husband to continue.

"I am so sorry, Riza," Breda groaned. "Darnell, you know what has happened better than I do. Please explain to Riza."

Kenneth Darnell paused only a couple of seconds before forcing himself to speak. "Riza, John Lindley, an under-secretary in Kimblee's department, was interviewed on Tobias Hauptmann's radio show. Lindley, uh, stated that you were an intelligence operative. On the air. To millions of listeners. Your information gathering is now public knowledge."

Her chest felt tight, and the color bled out of her vision. No wonder the Cretan had been so angry.

Breda, thinking that she might faint, reached out and supported her with a hand under her elbow. He was finally able to speak. "It's undoubtedly Kimblee's doing, and, I admit, a brilliant strategy. It makes you look like a perpetrator instead of a victim."

He gestured around the room. "Everyone else is doing the same thing. We have definitive evidence that several people in this very room report our activities back to their governments. I would be surprised if there were many people here who didn't already know about your covert activities. It's how we all do business. We try to maintain a delicate balance between diplomacy and spying. Part of maintaining that stability is conducting business as if the clandestine aspect does not exist. But now, the dirty little secret is out, and it is _your_ dirty little secret. I still don't think that you are in danger, but I was so terribly wrong about the government response…"

Riza's coping mechanisms had begun to operate. "I'm okay. We'll deal with this. I'll deal with this. At least we know what we are dealing with now. I guess that I should leave Drachma and go back to Amestris. You know, Hey, you might have plausible deniability. I don't think that anyone could prove that you knew what I was doing." She paused. "Has Bradley commented on this… development?"

Darnell replied, "Not that we know of. It may be too soon. The broadcast was only a few hours ago. However, I wouldn't be surprised if there were orders for you in the morning packet. As far as Bradley making a public statement, he may be waiting for the word to spread, and it is spreading like poison ivy." He shook his head, expressing both his lack of a solution and his sadness at the situation.

"I can't believe that you think that I would hang you out to dry," Breda admonished his spouse. "Would you abandon me?"

"I didn't mean it that way, Hey! We are practical people. Our marriage is practical." She seemed to have forgotten that they were not alone, and Breda was embarrassed by her candor. He liked the world to think of their marriage as a love match, because, though he would never admit it to Riza, he did love her with a silly romantic love that he knew she could never return. "They are trying to hurt you through me. It would be constructive for you to distance yourself," she continued urgently.

Heymans was thoughtful. It was such a weird situation. How often did a government disclose its own spies? You'd think that Amestris would rally around Riza, because she was trying to help Amestris. "I don't understand what Bradley is trying to do. Outing you as a spy is certainly bad for my diplomatic career, but it should make you a hero to the citizens of Amestris."

Darnell interrupted. "No," he said, "The interview didn't only expose Riza as a spy. There were also implications that she did it for money and that she might be a double agent. Kimblee's plan has made Riza a pariah everywhere." He paused. "It gets worse! I should have told you before, but I have actually overheard whispering about trying her for treason."

"How could they even do that?" Breda's voice had gotten loud.

Grimly, Riza enunciated, "They manufacture evidence. What are a few more lies? And how can I prove that I didn't do it? I can't. It's impossible.

"I think that we'd better leave, Hey. No one wants us here, and we have a lot of thinking to do. Take care, Ken." Breda nodded and put his arm around Riza's shoulders, and they walked out of the room.

* * *

Havoc's long body was stretched over the hotel room bed. He held an acoustic guitar and was practicing his finger picking. He believed that a musician should be versatile- be able to play in any style. He had always liked country music, and when he was in good form, he nearly sounded like two pickers playing together. Roy, sitting at the foot of the bed also held an acoustic guitar, and he snickered in self-deprecation as he repeatedly failed to emulate Havoc's technique.

"Why do you get to be so good, you bastard?" he whined at Havoc.

Havoc took it for the compliment that it was and smiled. "You really want an answer? As opposed to you, I have talent. Heh heh. And practicing helps. If you spent any time on it, you'd be passable. Besides, you get to be smart and good-looking. Let Falman and me have talent."

"What? You don't think that I'm smart and good-looking?" Falman cried. "I have been told that I am devastatingly handsome. I may not be very smart, though. I was dumb enough to hook up with you guys."

"What did I say to deserve that insult?" Roy asked. "You're lucky we let you join us, old man. We almost didn't. Havoc and I were afraid that you'd be too senile to learn your parts."

Havoc just plucked a riff that made Roy sigh and Falman comment, "That's so sad. We should do something with it! Play it again." Havoc repeated it, and Roy got a far away look in his eyes. "Yes. Yes. I think we should use it…." his voice trailed off as his brain began to work on making Havoc's riff into a song. Havoc repeated and varied the riff to help Roy along with his creative process.

Roy put down the guitar and found a paper and pen. "I don't know how a happy guy like you can come up with such a sad riff," Roy commented as he began to scribble.

"Maybe I'm not as happy as you think," Jean replied while strumming a chord change. Oddly, he sounded happy when he said it.

Roy froze and looked around at Havoc, startled. "Say it isn't so, Havoc. I depend on your happiness and Falman's to have a herd effect on me. Seriously, are things okay?"

"Oh, yeah, Roy. Take a chill pill. I'm happy. Really. I'm a happy guy, but even upbeat people can't be happy all of the time. That's all I meant." Havoc played another lovely cascade of notes.

"That's what this song will be about!" Roy announced. "No one can be happy all of the time. No one has a perfect life. A person should try to be happy by appreciating the beauty in nature, art, and knowledge. The good things seem even better when there are bad things to compare them to. So why am I miserable? Hmmm. I guess this needs a little more thought."

Havoc had gotten up. He walked around the foot of the bed, sauntering by Roy and ruffling his hair as he passed. "You've got the seed of an idea, dude. Plant it, and it'll grow."

Roy decided to nurture the wisps of the song at the public library. He was tempted to see if he could learn more about the Bredas, but he knew that he'd be lucky to make time to read the newspapers and work on the song. The hotel's concierge summoned a taxi and gave the driver instructions to take Roy to the central branch of the library.

Roy settled into a cubicle with the latest dailies. The headline nearly burned his eyes: AMESTRIAN DIPLOMAT'S WIFE IS SPY. He instinctively knew that it referred to Riza Hawkeye, and his scan of the article confirmed his intuition. The wave of emotion that washed over him was perplexing. He felt as if this was happening to a friend. _Could it be true? Is she a spy at all? Is she a double agent? Maybe she's like me, just trying to be a patriot. Maybe Bradley is going after Breda through his wife._ Roy knew with certainty that he was going to investigate this mess. If she was also running information, he and Riza might have contacts in common. Some of them might even give him answers. He suddenly became impatient for his next liaison.

* * *

The knock on the door was sharp and intrusive, especially at seven-thirty in the morning. Heymans and Riza's eyes met, and the look that passed between them would have sent a shiver down any observer's spine. Breda rose and opened the door. A civilian woman holding a manila envelop stood there. Four serious looking and armed Amestrian soldiers accompanied her. Breda took the envelope from her extended hand and opened it. As he read the documents that had been enclosed, the woman spoke with precise and uninflected words.

"Riza Breda, also known as Riza Hawkeye, is to accompany us. She is to return to Amestris under guard. Upon her re-entry into Amestris, she will be charged with sedition and treason against the people of Amestris. She is to depart with us immediately. She is not permitted to pack any belongings." The woman paused and frowned as she looked around the Breda's living room. "Where is Mrs. Breda?" she asked.

Heymans Breda took his time, slowly reading the documents that had been presented to him. "I don't know," he finally answered. "She is not here."

"What do you mean by that? Where else would she be at seven-thirty in the morning?" The woman's speech had become angry. This task was not going the way that she had expected it to.

"I mean that she is not here in our apartment. I cannot be any clearer. While you are not _welcome_ to do so, you have my permission to search our quarters if you disbelieve me."

She gestured, and three of the soldiers entered the apartment to search while the fourth watched the door and the hall. The soldiers checked the closets and under the bed. They opened cabinets and looked for crawl spaces. Riza was nowhere to be found. Had the soldiers thought to check it, they would have found that the sliding door to the balcony, while shut, was unlocked. It was only lockable from the inside.

Breda kept his face as blank as he could, but he was pleased that he had managed to stall the group long enough for Riza to escape through the balcony door. Of course, that fact that she had managed to get out didn't mean that she'd be safe. They had not been able to figure out anyone who could or would help her. She was on her own and completely alone.

"It looks like you will have to come with us, Mr. Breda." With the four soldiers flanking him, Heymans Breda exited the embassy.

* * *

**A/N**- Ah. Things are finally beginning to heat up. Roy and Riza have finally stepped onto their intersecting paths. Please tune in next time… and PLEASE review. Pretty please. Arigato.


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N**- The owner of Fullmetal Alchemist? It ain't me, babe.

Thank you, **Ewa Snow**, for the review!

* * *

Hawkeye, who luckily had been wearing flat shoes, landed as gracefully as a cat. She grabbed her backpack, checked for anyone who might be watching, and took off with a sprint. She had hit the ground with great force, but her legs, which were stronger than they appeared, had absorbed much of the pressure, and she had stayed on her feet. After quietly slipping out the balcony door, she had tossed her backpack over the rail and then climbed over it herself. Thank goodness they lived on the second floor. The first floor was partially underground, so the drop from the balcony had not been that bad. It was only a few seconds before she entered the cover of the foliage surrounding the lawn that abutted their section of the embassy.

She paused for a moment to orient herself and think. She and Hey had turned the problem over and around. They had tried to analyze it from every angle and had come up with zilch. They had anticipated the likelihood of Bradley's regime issuing a warrant for her arrest, and they had decided that they must do everything to keep her out of the government's clutches. Neither Heymans nor Riza had been able to think of one person that she could- or would- turn to for assistance. So, Riza would be on her own.

They had gathered as much cash as they could under the short notice, and she had it secreted in various places on her person. She wouldn't be able to use credit cards or withdraw money from their bank accounts if she wanted to fly under the radar. And they'd realized that Breda would probably be escorted back to Amestris in her stead. She'd hated to let him be the sacrifice, but he'd be safer there than she would. He might be in big trouble with Kimblee and Bradley, but he hadn't been accused of anything. Yet. It would be more difficult to railroad him.

They wouldn't be able to communicate with each other either directly or indirectly. His phone lines would obviously be tapped, and they had not been able to set up any safe message drop system. They had not felt that using the personal ads in a newspaper would be a good choice, either. There would likely be news about Heymans in the media, so she'd probably be able to have some idea of what was happening to him- assuming that the news was accurate and not propaganda. He would know nothing about her unless she got captured. Riza had promised her husband that she would stop at nothing to stay free until they found a way to absolve her. She was a clever and resourceful woman, and she would do her best. She hoped that he would be able to stay safe also.

_Enough thinking! Time to get moving_. She couldn't let the embassy guards see her leave the grounds, but there was a more discrete way out of the compound. The gates in the side walls were always locked, but the west gate lock was broken, her husband had told her. Breda had had to sign off on a repair order, and the repair had not yet been made. It should be easy enough for her to slip out that way. Guards did patrol the area, but only during "walk arounds." There were no guards actually posted to that site. All she had to do was confirm that the guards were elsewhere and take off. From there, she hoped that it would not be too difficult to disappear into the city's crowds. She spoke Drachman like a native, and she would change her appearance. Back in Amestris, Breda would rally their friends, if they still had any, and the nightmare would end. Right?

* * *

With four soldiers surrounding him, Breda boarded the train to Amestris. He was not handcuffed, because he was not technically a prisoner. He hadn't been accused of any crime. An official escort was just accompanying him.

The soldiers had decided that it was unlikely that Breda would try to flee, especially from a moving train. He was not permitted to wander the train alone, but the soldiers felt that security could be kept at a low level. That would allow _them_ to relax and to wander the train alone. Like many others, they misjudged Breda's fitness, but it was of no matter. He was not planning on trying to escape. He _wanted_ to get back to Amestris. All of his intellect was committed to devising plans to save his wife. He'd be able to do a lot of planning during the long ride back to Central.

* * *

The band had a four-day break, and then they had a second concert to play in Bolshanya, Drachma's capital. Initially, they had been peeved that the two concerts couldn't be scheduled together, but there had been no way to remedy the situation. Roy now saw the scheduling problem as fortunate. He was planning on returning to Bolshanya immediately. As disgusting as it would be, he would track down that slimy rat with whom he had made that unpleasant exchange in the alley. The Sleezoid might know about Hawkeye or even have had (perish the thought) dealings with her. _Hawkeye may even have been the source of the material_ _Roy had paid for!_

Havoc and Falman had decided to spend the time off at a resort by the Sea of Drachma. They had attempted to talk Mustang into joining them, but he told them that there was an engineering conference in Bolshanya that he thought might be interesting. "Next time," he told them.

A bus ride later, he was back in the capital. He took a room in the same hotel as before and then took a walk to clear the bus' fumes from his head. Now that he was back in town, he realized that he didn't really know how to find his creepy contact. The spy game depended on the players not knowing much about each other. It made the work just a bit safer. However, Roy had a hunch that the guy was the one who had chosen the alley location for their meeting and that he might hang around nearby. Sleezoid (Roy was beginning to like that name) had had alcohol on his breath, so Roy would check out nearby bars. First, of course, he'd hit the library for his news fix.

* * *

Hawkeye wanted to alter her appearance immediately, but she had to find a private place where she could begin the process. It was common knowledge that nearly all of the public areas and buildings in Drachma- even the restrooms- had video monitoring. She needed to do it where there were neither human nor electronic witnesses. Knowing ahead of time that she'd need to disguise herself, she had packed a pair of scissors in her purse, and she had tucked her hair into a beret on the way out of the embassy. Having no better ideas, she walked down a narrow street of decaying houses. She was able to crawl through a missing basement window into an abandoned building. The interior was less noxious than she had expected, and there was even a bench to sit on.

She only owned one pair of blue jeans, since, if she wasn't dressed formally or for exercise, she nearly always wore tailored slacks, dresses, or skirts. Anyone searching for her would be unlikely to take a second glance at a person in such casual garb- she hoped. She stepped out of her skirt and wriggled into the jeans. Next, she took off her blouse and pulled on a black sweater that had been left at their apartment by Breda's somewhat thinner brother. Still, it was large on her and added to the casual look. Finally she extracted the scissors and a mirror from her purse and sighed. _Here goes._ She gathered her distinctively golden locks into a rubber band and began to cut.

When she had finished, she was nearly unrecognizable. Her hair was no longer than an inch in any spot. _I almost look like a boy._ _At least I look different._ Riza thought that she might already look different enough that she wouldn't have to dye her hair, too. _I look a little rock and roll_, she thought. She placed the hair that she had cut off- it looked so sad- into a plastic bag she had packed. She couldn't leave it around on the off chance that the building would be searched. Oddly, she thought about _Kool Kidz_, the organization that collected hair to make wigs for sick children. She would flush the scraps when she got a chance, but she would mail the long ponytail to the charitable organization.

She gathered up her belongings and packed them away. After visually examining the room, she felt satisfied that she hadn't disturbed much of the dust and had left very little trace of her visit. She cautiously stuck her head out the window, and seeing that the street was clear, exited the way that she had entered.

Feeling a bit less conspicuous than before, Riza walked to the bustling shopping district. She glanced into the window of a chain store that sold inexpensive accessories. Smiling, she entered and was drawn to the earring section. Having decided that she liked the rock and roll look, she picked out a pair of dangly earrings made with black beads. A long aqua scarf caught her eye, and best of all, she found a pair of black cat's eye sunglasses whose lenses were barely tinted. She'd be able to wear them indoors, as if they were regular prescription eyeglasses. Riza tried them on and was pleased with the result. _I look kind of cute in a geeky way, and I don't look at all like Riza Hawkeye._ After purchasing the items, she began to walk towards the library, but the aroma emanating from a coffee shop changed her mind.

* * *

With the issuance of the warrant for Riza's arrest and with Breda's detention both being too recent to have been published in the press, the newspapers at the library didn't have anything new about the Bredas. Working on the new song couldn't have been less interesting to Roy, so he studied his map of Bolshanya and located the alley where he had made the exchange. Luckily, the alley was near the same bus route that went past the library.

The ride took a little longer at mid-day than it had at late night, but, as he stepped off of the bus, Roy sighted three bars on the block near the alley.

Roy could barely see through the haze of smoke that hung in the first bar. Roy could also barely breathe. He thought that he smelled cigars, pipes, cigarettes, and …other aromas. _Any place that could make a rock musician's eyes tear has got to be pretty damn smoky. _He realized that he would just have to look around for Sleezoid. For a minute, he thought that it would have been helpful if he had a picture of the guy or spoke Drachman. _Then again_, he thought, _asking about the guy was probably not the best way to go._ Hell, he wished that they had put him through Spy School, if there was such a thing. After searching the bars, if he was not successful- and why should he be, with this half-witted plan- he'd go back to the library and maybe research covert tactics. There must be methods that hadn't occurred to him.

Roy ordered a beer and sipped it as he sat at a corner table and willed his eyes to pierce the fog. The soft rumble of Drachman spoken around him was occasionally punctured by a loud laugh. The cadences of the sounds were so different than they were in Amestris. Figuring that he would have to buy a beer in each bar that he visited, and not wanting to get too drunk, he decided not to finish his mug. When he walked outside, the sun assaulted his eyes even more than the smoke had upon his entering.

The second bar (since he couldn't read Drachman, Roy had no idea what any of them were called) unlike the first bar had several female patrons and was not quite as smoky as bar number one. After more closely examining the women, Roy realized that they were not customers but were employees. This fact was indicated by their attire, which, at second glance, was seen to be flimsy and flashy. He also hadn't initially noticed the small stage opposite the bar. There was a pole and possibly a shower fixture. The ladies were dancers and perhaps more.

A burly and very hairy man approached Roy and grumbled something that Roy deduced was a request for a cover charge. Roy dug into his pocket for money and held out what he hoped was the correct fee. Roy figured that the expense was worth it. He could imagine Sleezoid spending some of the cash that Roy had handed him on a lap dance. He didn't see he quarry, but he figured that it was still early by Sleezoid standards.

He stepped up to the bar and bought his second beer of the day. The first sip told him that this brew was even more watery than the one at the first bar. He turned to seek out a seat with a view and found himself facing a woman in a shiny tube top and a faux leather miniskirt.

"You look like a man who enjoys the fine arts," she whispered to Roy. "Mine are very fine…"

Roy sidled to his left so that he could get past her. "Sorry darlin'. I'm meeting a friend here. I'll let you know when I'm ready for entertainment." Now he was nervous. How long he could stay there without buying a dance?

Just then, the door opened, and Sleezoid entered the premises.

* * *

**A/N**- Thank you for reading the story, and I hope that you are enjoying it. I had to slip a miniskirt into the tale, though I don't see how this particular miniskirt experience could be the one that shapes Roy's passion for them.

In case anyone is interested, I see Riza's (prior to being on the lam) dressing style as being similar to that of the U.S. First Lady Michelle Obama. Mrs. Obama dresses classically but looks hip and attractive instead of frumpy.

I feel like Tinkerbell who needs everyone to show that they care for her by clapping. You know where this is leading. Please review. I don't want to fade away. xD


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N**- I messed up the continuity in this story. I'm calling the capital of Drachma "Bolshanya." I had also referred to it as "Vadonsk," so I've corrected past chapter references to the capital from "Vadonsk" to "Bolshanya." Hey, you know how they change the names of cities! Bombay is now Mumbai. Danzig became Gdansk. St. Petersburg became Leningrad, and then it went back to St. Petersburg. I think. Same thing happened in Drachma. That's my story, and I'm sticking to it!

Thank you to **Red Walrus** and **little miss clueless** for the latest reviews. Also thanks to **radcat38** for her relatively recent reviews of other stories. I lost a bunch of my emails a few weeks ago, so I am unable to thank the people who put me on Author and Story Alert by name. I apologize. Thank you!

I do own some recently acquired FMA PVC figures (I love them!), but, alas, I do not own FMA. (As if you didn't know that.)

* * *

The man who Roy now thought of as "Sleezoid" walked straight to the bar and ordered a whiskey. Roy moved to his side and held out some money to the bartender. "Please allow me to take care of that for you," Roy said in a friendly manner. Startled, Sleezoid turned to take a good look at the man who was standing beside him.

"What the hell are you doing here? What do you want?" His accented Amestrian conveyed his anger. "You are a fool and a danger."

"I just want to ask you a couple of questions. The least that you'll get out of our conversation is a couple of drinks. I'll even treat you to a dancer if I like what you have to say," Roy explained quietly to Sleezoid. "I won't take up much of your time. Let's go sit over there." Warily, the Drachman followed Roy to an isolated table.

"I knew that you were trouble when I made that exchange with you," the Drachman declared. "If this is some kind of trick, you'll be very sorry."

"It's not a trick. Do you read the newspapers? Do you know about what has been going on with Heymans Breda and his wife?" Mustang hoped that he sounded cooler than he felt.

"Ah, the fat man and his beautiful wife. Heh. She looks hot, but she's as cold as Drachman ice. I'd be afraid to touch that one, but she is a sight in her silk robe." The Drachman's grin was lewd.

Roy made sure that he didn't show any reaction to the Drachman's expression. "Is she really a player? Have you delivered or picked up with her?" Mustang wanted to cut to the chase and escape to fresh air.

"The package that I gave you was still warm from her ample bosom. Or maybe her perfumed…"

Roy interrupted. "How many times have you picked up from her?"

"Maybe a dozen. I do not count."

"How do you rendezvous with her?"

"I slip onto the embassy grounds and she comes out onto her balcony. There's a broken gate that only has periodic surveillance. After we make the exchange, I slip away. Why do you want to know?" Sleezoid demanded.

Ignoring the query, Roy persisted, "Is she a double agent? A mole?"

The Drachman looked at Roy for a full twenty seconds before answering. His voice took on a completely different tone. "I could not say for certain, but I have no reason to believe so. My opinion is that the allegation is bullshit. Your government is using her is what I think. The lady is frosty, and I don't think that she likes me," he looked pointedly at Roy, "but I think that she is loyal to Amestris."

"Do you have any means of contacting her other than on the embassy grounds?"

"No. I am just a courier. I can't help you there."

"Is there any more information that you can give me about the Bredas?"

"Sorry."

Roy believed the man. "All right. Thanks. Here. Have another drink. Then, if you like her, spend this on the girl in the tube top and miniskirt." Mustang nodded his head in the woman's direction. He got up and strode from the bar without another word.

Sitting in the coffee shop, Riza Hawkeye Breda sipped her drink and perused her documents. In anticipation of Riza having to disappear, Breda had managed to procure papers to document an alias- Maya Ostrova, age 23. There hadn't been much time, so they decided that Riza would try to pass as a Drachman. While the papers would not get Riza across a border, they would enable her to get a place to stay and a job that did not require a security check.

She and Hey had done a little research and found an inexpensive women's hotel. The _Oasis Hotel for Women _was mostly occupied by young Drachman women who traveled to Bolshanya from the small towns to seek their fortunes. It was reputed to be safe, clean, and reasonably priced. Riza looked young enough to pass for twenty-three and to blend in, especially in her jeans. The hotel had cooking facilities and was also situated close to the library. It was only six blocks from the coffee shop. She paid her bill and headed to her new residence. "Home" was not a word she could use to describe a place where she'd be living without her husband. She stopped in a drug store along the way and bought eyeliner, eye shadow, and mascara. Heavy eye make up should help render her even more unrecognizable.

The hotel clerk accepted Riza's documentation without question. "Are you a party girl or a quiet one?" the clerk asked.

"I guess that I'm pretty quiet," Riza replied.

"I'll put you on the fourth floor, Maya. There are some nice quiet girls up there. A couple go to school at night. Some of them even cook their dinner and eat together in the kitchen area. If you have any questions, Sophia Vorvada will be glad to help you. She's in four-oh-seven. I'm putting you in four-ten. Here's a paper with the rules. Here's your key, and there's the elevator. Enjoy your stay, and good luck."

Riza rode to the fourth floor and found her room without running into another soul. She unpacked and flopped onto the strange bed. She decided to rest for an hour and then go shopping for food. It was too soon to learn anything about her husband at the library, and, anyway, no news was _probably_ good news.

About a fifteen minutes after Riza had slipped into the elevator, another young woman entered _The Oasis_. She looked lost and nervous. "Hi," she spoke with a shaky voice. "I'm from Amestris and don't speak Drachman. I…"

"It's okay, Sweetie. I speak some Amestrian," soothed the clerk.

A big smile appeared on the young woman's face. "Oh, thank you! You don't happen to have a room near another girl who speaks Amestrian, do you?"

"You look like the quiet type. There's a girl, Sophia Vorvada, in four-oh-seven who is pretty fluent. I'll put you in four-oh-nine. A new girl just checked into four-ten, too. She seemed nice, but I don't know if she speaks anything other than Drachman."

"Four-oh-nine sounds perfect!" the young woman squealed. "Perfect." She headed towards the elevator. She had called in and left her post to follow the blond woman from the coffee shop. At first, she hadn't really thought that the woman could be the fugitive, but when the blond had checked in at the hotel- indicating that she had no place to stay- she became more interesting. The young Amestrian agent had crossed the street to a luggage store, bought a cheap suitcase, and returned to the hotel. _So, if that really was Hawkeye, she's using a Drachman alias. This is going to be interesting. _

Riza, who had just put in a practice session with the eye make up, thought she looked like a raccoon. The person who had stared back at her from the mirror looked even less like the Riza Hawkeye that everyone knew … and hunted. She now, as Maya Ostrova, stood at the stove heating up some canned soup. Another woman walked into the kitchen. "Hi. I'm Tammy, and I am new," she said brightly. "Do you speak Amestrian?"

The warm Amestrian words made it difficult for her to not break her cover, but she didn't. "Uh. Very little," Riza replied, with what she hoped sounded like Drachman-accented Amestrian. She might speak Drachman fluently, but she had never tried to speak Amestrian with a Drachman accent before. She turned toward the stranger. "I am Maya."

Tammy looked casual, but she was closely observing the woman who called herself "Maya." _I just don't know. She's the right height_ _and coloring, but she looks really different._ She brushed her hair back with her hand and discreetly photographed Maya with her camera watch. 

Riza would have liked to escape to her room and what? Sleep? However she shared her soup with the chatty Amestrian woman. Before long, the aforementioned Sophia Vorvada appeared and welcomed her new floor mates. Riza didn't want to seem unfriendly and, therefore, conspicuous, so she stayed. The three young ladies talked for a couple of hours, with Sophia translating for "Maya" and Tammy.

"Maya" later lay in bed with sleep nowhere to be found. She stared at the ceiling and wondered what would become of Heymans and herself.

* * *

Roy had left his unpleasant encounter and gone back to the hotel where he practiced his bass without an amp. On his way to dinner, he bought the day old Amestrian-language newspapers. He fell asleep reading the papers and had a quiet night.

* * *

Late the next morning:

_The ride to Drachma_, Heymans Breda thought, _was much more pleasant than the ride from Drachma is. _Riza had been on the train with him when they moved from Amestris. He and Riza never ran out of things to talk about. They had talked, snuggled, and played games. They had looked forward to working in Drachma despite the cold climate and government. This trip was quite different. His guards had left him alone for the time being, and they barely spoke to him when they were with him.

This train ride seemed interminable even though Breda knew that he would be facing a dire predicament when he arrived home. Over twenty-four hours had now passed since Riza had escaped and he had been detained, and he had not been able to discover a solution. Bradley and Kimblee had him right where they wanted. Riza was safe for the moment- he assumed- but how long would that last if she didn't find someone to help her.

He gazed out the window. The landscape told him that they had traveled quite a bit south. He decided to doze. Maybe he would dream a way out of their dilemma. He was at that point where the wall between sleep and wakefulness was blurry when a deafening squeal was followed by a more deafening crash. An impact threw him out of his seat with enough force to smash him into the opposite seat. As screams filled the air, the train seemed to jar and slide and roll and bounce simultaneously, buffeting Breda between the seats. He felt a shocking pain shoot through his right arm as he used it to push himself up from the floor. Once on his feet, he realized that the train was canted. He looked out the window and could see twisted cars where they shouldn't be. The train had derailed. He could see that the engine of the train had hit something that was too damaged to identify. Most of the cars had made it over the bridge before the accident, but the last car had not. It had derailed when only the first portion of the car had made it onto solid ground.

Disregarding his pain, Heymans ran out of the car's door. He instantly took in the chaos around him. As bad as it was in this car, he didn't smell any smoke. It looked to him that the passengers could take care of themselves. He rushed down the steps to exit the car, and he ran toward the final car, propelled by concern.

He was one of the first people to arrive at the endangered car. He yanked the door open with his right arm and realized from the agony that it must be broken. He would just have to ignore the throbbing.

His eyes fell on a terrible scene. The passengers that were mobile had begun to move to the section of the car that was on solid ground, but they seemed disoriented and none had exited the train. Breda's appearance seemed to spur them to action. He chose the least injured and most focused person, a woman of about forty, and he told her to direct those who could walk to the exit. He grabbed two squalling babies and handed them out the door to other passengers that had come to help. The next person that he helped was an unconscious man that Breda heaved over his shoulder. This man Breda carried down to solid ground himself, as the fellow was too heavy to hand off.

Heymans thought that he smelled smoke, but it was not coming from this particular car. He glanced around and saw a plume, but he saw that passengers were steadily exiting that car. He turned back to the most jeopardized car to help the next injured passenger. However, this time he heard a groan from beneath his feet. A woman who tried to walk but couldn't was his next rescue. He carried her out of the car as it jerked and tilted even more.

He knew that time was critical. The car was going to plunge any minute. He was startled by the thought that it could drag other cars down with it, but a quick look showed him that the railroad employees had had the foresight to disconnect the car from the rest of the train.

"I need help!" he yelled, but his voice was weak and raspy. "There are still a half dozen people who need to be removed." One of his guards had appeared at the scene and nodded curtly. He ran up the steps and helped Breda carry out a woman and the child who was grasping her dress but was dazed with fear. There was another terrifying groan from the car, and it shifted again. Breda's guard managed to save another man, and Breda removed a child. Only two people were left on the car. It jerked again, clearly near its tipping point. Heymans Breda took a breath and climbed back onto the car. As he reached to help an elderly man, the sound of metal scraping against metal warned him that his luck had run out.

As the train car plummeted toward the rocky ravine, Heymans Breda thanked the Powers That Be that he had had an interesting life and that he had had Riza Hawkeye to love. He also asked the Powers to help his wife.

His widow.

* * *

**A/N**- Yes, **Red Walrus**, you were correct about which character would die!

Thank you for reading. I think that this chapter got a little fragmented, but I hope that you enjoyed it, anyway. If you are in the mood, I'd love reviews.


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N-** Thanks, again, to the always dependable-for-a-review **Red Walrus**. Also thanks for the review to **Jess Rap**. And to **SukiByTwilight **for favoriting "A Rocky Ride."

The action in this chapter begins the same morning that the last chapter ended. (R.I.P. H.B.)

And, yes, I'm a fan, not the owner.

* * *

Riza woke up with a start from a sleep that had granted her much too little time away from her troubles. Sitting up in the strange bed, she ran her fingers through her hair, which was bed-headed spiky and felt strange to her touch. Forcing herself out of bed- an unusual situation, as she nearly always looked forward to her day- she trudged to the shower. The water did a good job cleansing her body, but it didn't do much for her mind. She longed for a good cup of coffee, but she knew that it was imperative that she be very careful with her money, so she grabbed the jar of instant coffee that she had bought and headed for the kitchen. _If I only eat liquids that I can heat up in a saucepan, I might lose weight_, she thought.

She hadn't checked the time, and she was surprised to have the kitchen to herself. She glanced at her watch. Despite her lack of sleep, it was later than she had thought. It didn't take very long to make the detestable non-percolated drink. Certainly not long enough to devise a plan or even decide what to do next. Well, she did need at least one more very un-Riza-like outfit, and she did want to read the newspapers. Since money was an issue, she'd do that at the library.

Tammy observed as much as she could of _Maya's_ activities through her peephole. Last evening, she'd contacted a courier and handed off the tiny chip from her watch. Her handler would analyze the photos on the chip and get back to Tammy with a determination on whether Maya was indeed Riza Hawkeye Breda. Meanwhile, she'd shadow Maya until she got some news.

Unable to visit the gym, Riza decided to take a long and brisk walk to the library. Since the library was only about a dozen blocks away, she mentally planned a winding route through some of Bolshanya's scenic streets and parks. Setting off at a vigorous pace, she moved totally unaware that she was being followed.

After four seemingly unnecessary turns, Tammy began to wonder _where the hell is she going? Has she _made_ me and is trying to lose me? _But they arrived at the library soon enough, and Tammy waited behind a hedge as Riza, without looking around, trotted up the marble steps and into the grand old building.

_I miss having access to a radio_, mused Riza, but she knew that the papers would be much more detailed, were there details to be had. Radio had the advantage of getting information out speedily, but it sacrificed a lot of content. She grabbed a Drachman paper and moved towards a carrel. Preoccupied, she didn't notice a man moving toward the same cubicle. However, he saw her and stepped back, flourishing with his arm. "Oh. So sorry," she apologized in Drachman. He merely smiled and nodded at her. He walked over to an empty space a few carrels down.

She focused on the paper to read the news, but a small photo at the bottom of the front page caught her eye. She could swear that it was of the young man who had just allowed her to occupy the reading cubby. The caption stated "Amestrian band returns to capital. See page 12 for more." Page 12 had a larger photo, and she was now certain that it was of the same man. The photo showed the man with two other men, and he was wearing eyeliner! This made her laugh, since _she_ had never really worn eyeliner until she got into this big mess. She had assumed that he was a Drachman of Xingese descent, but if he were an Amestrian, it would explain why he had not replied to her Drachman apology. _Small world_, she thought. There really weren't that many private Amestrian citizens in Drachma. Was it a coincidence that she had run into two of them in as many days? She turned back to the front page.

Tammy attempted to appear as if she were perusing the volumes of books in the stacks. She had a decent view of Maya and was pretty sure that Maya couldn't see her. The woman, whoever she was, had spoken to the man in Drachman and was reading a Drachman newspaper. She was likely just some Drachman girl with a small resemblance to Hawkeye, who had come to the city and was reading the want ads.

Roy stretched, turned, and peered around the room just as the blond woman he had nearly run into got up. He watched as she made her way to somewhere else in the library. He had liked the low timbre of her voice when she had spoken to him, and, weirdly, it had sounded vaguely familiar. He always noticed sounds and especially voices. Often, he'd recognize someone's voice before his or her face. He was trying to access the part of his brain that had filed away where he had heard the voice before when he noticed another young woman making her way in the same direction as the blond. There was something odd about the way that the second woman was so focused on the first. Well, it was none of his business, and he went back to his paper and his musing about the woman's voice.

A few minutes later, he heard the chair in the booth next to his being pulled out, and he glanced over. It was the blond woman with the short hair and glasses. She smiled at him as she gracefully sat down, and he grinned back. _Her former carrel must have been occupied when she returned. _Then, before he resumed reading his paper, he noticed the second woman looking furtive and returning to the stacks. Not wanting to be caught staring at a stranger, he turned back into his cubby. It was ridiculous to assume that one woman was following the other, he knew, but the second woman's actions seemed so un-random.

Tammy heard a soft buzz come from her watch. It was the signal that she was to contact her handler. Her eyes scanned the library for a pay phone, and she noted one that would allow her to continue her surveillance. She padded over to the phone and called in.

"The pictures were not conclusive," grumbled her handler. "Stay on her and try to get some better photographs. We're sending you help. We have a couple of other possible leads, so we will let you know. By the way, we think that Breda is dead. There was a train accident. Breda was seen near a car that plunged into a ravine, and he has not been accounted for. If he is dead, it is even more important that we apprehend his wife, as he will no longer be a means of controlling her." Tammy listened without breaking visual contact.

There were articles about Riza and her husband in the newspapers that she had checked out, but there was nothing helpful printed. The Drachman papers just parroted the lies that the Amestrian government had spread about her. There was nothing about what they were doing with her husband, and there was no clue that anyone was offering to help her. It was about the same in the paper from Aerugo. While she could understand quite a bit of Xingese, she could not, yet, recognize enough of the very complex alphabet of Xing and thus could not read it. So, she decided to leave the library and look for an inexpensive outfit for "Maya."

Roy heard the woman's chair scrape again, and he subtly turned his head to watch, curious if, but doubtful that the second woman was really following the blond. As he saw the second woman hang up the phone and move stealthily after the blond, he realized with a total shock where he thought he had heard the woman's voice before. It had been on the news the previous day. The television newscaster had played an interview from when the Bredas had first moved to Drachma. Unbelievably, the Drachman woman sounded just like Riza Hawkeye Breda, who had spoken both Drachma and Amestrian in the interview. He now knew, with no uncertainty, that the second woman _was_ following the first, and he knew that he was going to follow the both of them.

* * *

He stayed a couple of people in back of the woman following Hawkeye. As they traveled a few blocks, any remaining doubt about the scenario left him. Suddenly, a man tapped the second woman on the shoulder. Roy moved close enough to them to hear the man speak in Amestrian and tell the woman to go back to the hotel, that he'd continue the tail. It would be best if "Tammy" were at the hotel ahead of her quarry. The woman nodded and turned right at the next corner.

Riza stopped to look in the window of an antique store having spotted an old globe that she thought Heymans might like. Realizing that "Maya" would have no interest in such a thing, she turned to continue on her way. She didn't spot any stores with clothing that met her stylistic and financial needs, so she continued to her hotel.

Roy observed Riza's male tail watch her enter the hotel and then continue on. Roy, however, turned into the hotel lobby. He saw Riza talk to the concierge and then head for the elevator.

Suddenly, Riza felt a touch on her arm, and she turned toward whoever it was.

"Estrov!" Roy spoke the Drachman greeting, one of the very few words he knew, in a normal voice. He slipped his arms around Hawkeye and drew her close. " I apologize." He had changed back to Amestrian. "You were being followed," he whispered in her ear. "First by a woman and then by a man. Don't look! Pretend we are friends. The woman went back here ahead of you. The man continued on once you entered the hotel. You're Riza Hawkeye, aren't you? I want to help. I'm…"

"Roy Mustang, rock musician," she murmured as she gently, but firmly pulled out of his embrace but remained very close to him. "I saw your photo in the paper. How do you think that you could possibly be any help to me?"

"I think that I may have a way to get you somewhere relatively safe."

"Why should I trust you? If I was being followed, how do I know that you are not in cahoots with them?" _Was it a trick? Obviously _he_ had been following her. Had there really been anyone else?_

The bewildered expression on his face was so innocent, that Riza felt the instant urge to trust him.

"I'm not with them, but I have no idea how I could convince you. Do you have anyone else to trust? I hate what is being done to you and your husband. Believe me. What do you say?"

His reply was so unsmooth that she did want to believe him, but she kept silent.

He continued trying to explain to Hawkeye.

"I work for Amestris, too. Amestris, _not_ Bradley. The band can travel without many questions being asked. I've made a couple of pick-ups. When your husband's articles were published, I got interested. Then, there was the fallout, and I began… investigating. I know that I have one of your packets. I believe that you are not a double agent."

"What are you planning?" It was a question, but not a commitment.

"My band has a few more days in Drachma, and then we will go to Aerugo. There's no extradition treaty with Amestris there, so you'd be safer. We do have to go through Amestris, but we'll let everyone think that you are my, um, groupie?" It was half statement, half question. "You can stay with me in my hotel rooms. You can have the bed, and I'll take the chair."

_Not that bad an idea, _she thought_, _if_ he was on the up and up. _"How do I get out of here without being pursued?"

"Get your stuff. Do you have a suitcase?"

She shook her head. "I can fit everything into this backpack."

"That's good. Then it won't be obvious that you're leaving. Come down in one hour. Once I see you in the lobby, I'll create a distraction. Go to the left when you exit the hotel, and meet me around the corner," he instructed.

Mustang had kept his back to the hotel employee so that she would not be able to identify him to any questioner. He turned toward the door and walked outside. Hawkeye stepped onto the elevator.

When the doors opened onto the fourth floor, and Tammy was standing there, ready to board. She stepped back when she saw Riza and giggled.

"Oh, hi, Maya. How are you doing? Just getting in, I see. What did you do today?" Tammy questioned as the elevator doors began to close. Riza spun and waved her hand between the doors to stop them from closing.

"I don't want you to miss the elevator," Riza said using her fake Drachman-accented Amestrian.

"Oh, I think that I decided to stay upstairs," squeaked Tammy, turning back toward their rooms.

_Oh, shit!_ thought Riza. _It's all true. Tammy was wondering why I hadn't come up to the fourth floor yet. Any port in a storm. Mustang had really better be on my side, and he had really better know what he's doing!_

_______________________________________________________________________________________________________________  
_

**A/N-** I managed to get this chapter up in just a week, and I have much of the next chapter written! (On the other hand, I have not kept my promise to my self to write at least 500 words a day.) Thank you for reading. Please review! Look how much compassion Roy has for Riza. Surely, you have a little for me. XD


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N**- Thanks, again, to **Red Walrus **for the review. Also, thanks to **Smash41KMF** for favoriting this story and **Viva La Vie Boheme 1991 **for the Author Alert. You all brightened my week.

If asked, Roy, Riza, Jean, Vato, and poor Breda's ghost would tell you that they don't belong to me.

* * *

Roy knew that he had to work rapidly. He trotted a block back down the street to a chain drug store that he had noticed and purchased a package of auburn hair coloring, a tablet of paper, some string, a roll of duct tape, a box of thin candles, and a large package of caps for a child's toy gun from the toy aisle.

Back at his hotel (and breathless!) he tore off four sheets of paper from the tablet and folded each of them in half lengthwise. Next, he unrolled some caps. Carefully, he poked the back of the first cap with the point of the blade of his penknife and even more carefully emptied the powder from the cap into the fold of the first sheet of paper. He repeated the procedure, working as speedily as he could while maintaining caution, until he had filled all four of the papers with the explosive cap powder. He then used the penknife to cut off four lengths of string and four strips of duct tape. After folding up one end of each paper to keep the powder inside, he inserted half of the length of string, leaving half dangling out. He then rolled each paper lengthwise and taped it up with the duct tape.

Leaning back in the desk chair, Roy lit one of the candles and timed it to see how long it took to burn a half-inch.

He then shoved the hair dye into a drawer and donned his coat. He put the two candles and two paper tubes each in his right and left pockets and stuffed the left over paper, tape, caps, string, and box from the candles into the bag from the store, along with the receipt. He had already packed one of his blazer-type jackets and a baseball cap in the bag.

Glancing at his watch, he started down the stairs. First, he stopped off on the next floor down and stashed the empty candle box in the trash bag on the maid's cart. He continued down, skipping a floor, and tossed the duct tape in a trashcan in the ice machine area. Once he was outside on the street, he pitched the string into a dumpster outside of a restaurant and the caps and receipt down a sewer. He left the paper on a bench at a bus stop.

His watch showed that the hour was nearly up, so he increased his speed. Soon, he arrived at the _Oasis Hotel_. A peek in the door showed him that Hawkeye was not in the lobby, so he went to recheck the hotel's alley- the one opposite from where he had told Riza to go. The two dumpsters sat along the alley just as he remembered, one near the back of the hotel, one halfway toward the front by a side door. Since no one appeared to be paying any attention to him, he sidled into the alley and placed his makeshift firecrackers, two behind each dumpster with the fuses stretched along the length of each candle. The ground was dry. The candles would (hopefully) act as timers. Within two minutes after he lit the candles, they should burn down to the point where they lit the fuses of the jerry-rigged firecrackers. There was about an eighth of an inch of candle between the wick and the end of each fuse with some variations. The firecrackers behind the front dumpster should explode shortly after the back ones. So, people should run toward the back of the alley and then the front.

The coast was clear, so he left the alley and checked the lobby. Still no Hawkeye. He walked a block away from the hotel.

* * *

Riza had pretty much made up her mind to go with Mustang. She had packed everything- except for a book- into her backpack. The book was to be her excuse to sit in the lobby and wait for the promised distraction. He stomach was roiling with tension. Before she left her room, she asked herself one more time, _Can I trust this man?_ She wanted to, but she checked her backpack one more time. Her pistol was lying on top of the rest of her meager belongings. She took a breath and opened her door. As she tapped the button for the elevator, Tammy appeared in the hallway. "I'm coming! Hold it for me, Maya!" she screeched.

Suppressing a gasp, Riza nodded and held the arriving elevator car. "Where are you off too, Maya? You're not hooking up with a cute guy, are you?"

Riza waved her book. Thank goodness she had actually brought a Drachman book with her! "I thought that I would sit in the lobby and read. I do not want to sit in my room. What about you, Tammy?"

"Oh, I thought that I'd get a sandwich. Do you want to join me, Maya?"

"Thank you, but no. I will stay here and read."

Riza thought that she saw an irritated look pass swiftly across Tammy's face before she waved, turned, and left.

_I wonder if she'll just stand outside and watch what I do. Mustang's distraction had better distract Tammy._

Hawkeye sat in a chair facing the doors to the street. She opened her book, but her concentration was on her surroundings. After about five minutes, she saw Mustang on the sidewalk, passing from left to right. She sat up and waited.

* * *

_Good! She was in the lobby and ready._ He had been afraid that she would not show, and he wouldn't have blamed her for being paranoid about him. About anyone. Roy noticed that the woman who had trailed Hawkeye was in the sandwich shop across the street and keeping an eye on the hotel. _Shit. The firecrackers had better work. _

He made it into the alley without being noticed, lit the candles, and scooted out the far side of the alley toward where he had told Mrs. Breda to meet him.

Tammy had just walked out of the sandwich shop when there was a loud bang and a flash of light from the alley to her left. People on the street began running in that direction, though some, possibly the ones with more sense, ran away from the din. She crossed the street on a diagonal, drawn to the noise. Could it have anything to do with her assignment?

Riza heard the clanging and saw Tammy's focus move in that direction. She moved out of her comfy chair and out on the pavement in a snap. She turned to the left and to the left again, at the corner. As she turned the corner, she glanced behind, and it appeared that the distraction _had_ distracted everyone. As she moved toward the back of the hotel, she saw a shaggy head poke around the corner. The rest of Mustang then emerged.

"Give me your backpack, and put these on," he said, handing her the cap and jacket. "At least you'll look a little different than when you left the hotel, in case that woman wises up before we get far enough. She did as he asked, pleased that he had had the forethought to bring her a little disguise.

"I'm staying at the _Saritol_, only a few blocks down. I didn't have time to find you any clothes, but you can wear some of mine if you have to. I got you some hair dye. I really don't think that you should stay blond."

"Good idea. I was hoping that cutting it was enough, but that fact that I've been pursued shows that I need to take further action." She had a thought. "What did the woman following me look like, Mr. Mustang?"

"Oh, good grief! Call me Roy, especially since we want everyone to think we're sleeping together. Sorry about that part. And what should I call you? You must have an alias."

"Maya Ostrova. That's my alias. But, please, what did the woman following me look like?"

Mustang proceeded to give a pretty accurate description of Tammy, assuring Riza that Tammy had been spying on her. She was still not 100% convinced about Roy, but she consoled herself that she still had her gun. Or she would when she got her backpack back from Mustang. She sighed. She'd really better keep on her toes.

They arrived at the _Saritol_ and rode the elevator up to Roy's room. Barely a couple of minutes later, there was a knock at the door. "Who's there?" called Roy as Riza hid.

"Open up, dude! Falman and I decided that you couldn't be left alone in the big city, so we decided to hook up today instead of tomorrow."

Roy opened the door a few inches, and Riza, hiding in the closet and peeking through the slats, saw the amiable face of the tall blond guitar player from the photo in the newspaper.

"Hey, buddy, it's good to see you!" spoke Roy. The two men performed some kind of complex handshake and laughed. "But I'm not alone. Get my drift?" Roy whispered and inclined his head toward the bathroom, which Havoc, from his position, could not see was empty.

"Okay, Roy Boy! That engineering conference must have been better than I imagined possible. All right! I'm next door, and Falman's across the hall. I'll warn him away. Knock when you get a chance. And have fun." Mustang nodded, and the door shut. He opened the drawer and pulled out the hair coloring. Riza took it and headed toward the bathroom.

"You must be hungry. I am. I'll call room service. What would you like to eat?" Roy asked Riza.

"Oh. Something plain like fish or chicken would be good, please." She was ravenously hungry.

The television was on when Riza emerged from the bathroom with auburn hair. Roy was on the bed, and he shrugged his shoulders, indicating that the food had not yet arrived. She sat at the foot of the bed, still toweling her hair, when the news began.

"A tragic train accident has ended the life of a troubled Amestrian diplomat," announced the anchorman. Riza and Roy's attention snapped to the television. Riza held her breath.

"Authorities have now located the body of Heymans Breda, former attaché from Amestris. He plunged to death this morning when a car of a derailed train, traveling from Drachma to Amestris, fell into a ravine. Mr. Breda was recalled to Amestris when his wife, Riza Hawkeye Breda, was accused of treason. Mrs. Breda is still missing." A picture of Riza filled the screen. "Anyone with information of her whereabouts is requested to contact the authorities. The cause of the derailment is not yet known. Six other riders died…"

Riza first felt as if her consciousness had flown from her body. She was an empty shell that felt nothing at all. She had no idea how long this state lasted. Then, suddenly, reality hit her like a tsunami. All perception and emotion poured back into her. Heymans was _dead_. _It couldn't be. _

Mustang, too, was shocked into a frozen state, even without the emotional component. When his mind began to work, he thought, _What if it's just a ruse to smoke Hawkeye out? _He wouldn't put it past Bradley's gang to lie to the media to get at her. They knew that the Bredas probably didn't have a way to communicate while Mrs. Breda was in hiding. It was probably just a naïve hope that Breda was still alive, but Roy turned to Riza.

"Did, do you and your husband have a means of communication?" he asked.

She continued to stare at the television and didn't turn her head towards Mustang. "What?" She knew that he had spoken to her, but she had no idea what he had said.

"What if it's a lie? Can you contact Mr. Breda without anyone knowing?"

"No. We didn't have time to come up with a plan," she said in a monotone. "You don't really think that he is alive, do you?"

"No. I don't. But we should try to verify everything. I think that Bradley's people could manipulate the media." Then he wished he hadn't mentioned it. Once he thought more about it, he believed that the reports were true. They would have said that Breda was injured and in a hospital if they were lying to catch Hawkeye.

"We have just received video from the train accident and will show it as soon as we can get it up," the anchorman informed his audience.

Seconds later, the screen was filled with a woman holding her child. "The man whose wife is a spy saved us," she sobbed. "He was so brave. The car was really shaky, but he went back on to help the last few people."

A man in an Amestrian Army uniform solemnly corroborated the woman's story. "Mr. Breda saved several lives before the crash took his."

The reporter's voice came from off screen. "Do you know the cause of the derailment?"

The soldier just shook his head.

"We'll be right back," advised the commentator as the screen faded to black.

"He's dead," Riza monotoned.

Roy just shook his head. He had moved closer to her and was helplessly patting her back, not knowing what else he could do.

The knock at the door was a startling intrusion. Roy pulled himself off of the bed and got the door. He tipped the room service attendant and wheeled the cart into a corner, out of the way. He'd try to get her to eat in a while but not right now. She hadn't moved from the foot of the bed, so he patted the bed and asked her, "Why don't you lie down for awhile? I'll go out. Eat whenever you are ready. Do you need anything?"

She took his advice and was lying with her head on a pillow. She disconsolately shook it _no_, and he closed the door quietly behind him. He knocked on Havoc's door and found Havoc and Falman playing cards.

"We'll deal you in next hand, dude," promised Havoc.

"It's okay. I'll just watch."

"Did your little lady leave?" asked an obviously filled in Falman.

"She's taking a nap," was Roy's reply.

"Hmm. Tired her out!" exclaimed Jean. "Go, Roy!"

"Or bored her to sleep," muttered Falman.

"Listen, guys," Roy said in a voice that informed his band mates that he wasn't in the mood to joke around, "she'll be staying with me when we leave Bolshanya. He name is Maya."

Falman and Havoc looked at Roy, nodded, and went back to their poker game.

* * *

**A/N**- Thank you for reading. I hope that you are enjoying the story. I think that it really might help Riza escape her enemies if this chapter receives a few reviews! Take care.


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N**- Sob. I only received one review for chapter 9. What would I do without you, dear, faithful **Red Walrus**? My thanks also go to **StarCatcher1858** for favoriting me and **The Golden Witch** for the alert. Also thanks to **Arakawa**. You know why.

* * *

Riza longed for sleep, thinking that it might be an escape from her wreck of a life, but it was not to be. Again, oblivion avoided her. Less than a week ago, all had been well. She had been contentedly- if not deliriously happily- married to a man that she had liked very much and even loved in a way. She had had days filled with activities that satisfied and entertained her.

And now? Now, she was on the run, possibly even for her life. She had put her trust in a young man whom she knew virtually nothing about. She still hadn't ruled him out as the enemy.

And Heymans Breda, the man she had assumed she'd spent most of the rest of her life with- her emotions about him were quite muddled up. She was desolately sad that he had died. She was furious that he had let himself die, that he had apparently put himself in danger. She was angry that he had written the articles that had led indirectly to his death and directly to her peril. She admired him for having written the same articles.

Riza Hawkeye Breda would never see, touch, smell, hear, or taste Heymans Breda again.

_It's not like I ever thought that I needed him, but I got so used to him that I now feel like I do need him. _

When she'd agreed to marry him, she'd had her doubts. Practical and analytical person that she is, she'd made a list of pros and cons, and the pros had greatly surpassed the cons. The main con had been _I don't LOVE him_, but Riza Hawkeye did not believe in romantic love, so that con did not carry a lot of weight. And the marriage had turned out to be a very good thing.

_Do I even want to go on? _

She made a decision, at least for the time being. A decision to end it all could not be changed, but a decision to continue could.

* * *

Roy hung out with Falman and Havoc, finally joining them for a few hands of poker and losing a little money. After an hour-and-a-half, he went back to his room, rapping quietly before he opened the door. Hawkeye had been sitting at the desk and jumped up when he entered.

"I'm feeling somewhat better now," she said. She didn't look or sound chipper, but she was in control. "Are you hungry? I've been waiting for you in case you want to eat." When Roy nodded, she continued, "I'll heat the meals in the microwave oven."

"What can I do to help?" he asked. It was his room, but he felt that he was intruding on her. She was strong, though. He didn't think that he could have coped with the loss of a loved one and hiding from enemies at the same time.

"Well, nothing with the food, but is it okay if we talk about my situation while we eat? I've been doing some thinking."

"Sure. I want to help anyway that I can," Roy declared.

When his meal was heated, she handed it to him and put hers in the oven. He lay the plate on the desk and pulled a second chair over for her. Shortly, she sat beside him.

"First, Roy, I really want to thank you for everything that you've done so far. I think that your plan is a good one, and I had been at a total loss of what to do. But, there's a problem. I don't know if my documentation for my false identity will get me over a border. I don't have any photo I. D., either. I know of someone who might be able to provide what I need, for a fee, but there are two issues. First, I don't have enough money and can't get any more without tipping Bradley's goons off. Second, I would expect that the people looking for me might have surveillance on her, the forger." She hated asking him for even more help, but she looked him in the eye.

He nodded. "I'll go, and I'll get the money from my account. Don't worry."

_He looks so sweet and earnest_, she thought. _I hope that he _is._ I hate to take advantage of him, but what else can I do? _"I'll repay you as soon as I get to Aerugo. If I can't access my funds, I'll take out a loan to repay you. I promise."

He smiled slightly and waved his hand. "Don't worry about it. I trust you!"

His smile, even the sad little one he had just made, transformed his face. Up until that point, he had reminded her of the Xingese exchange students at university, those smart boys with the slide rules. The boys that had hung out at the engineering building or the computer lab had not mixed with the Liberal Arts kids, and she had never noticed them smiling. In four years of school, she had never even spoken to one of them.

The smile was so kind. It softened his eyes, which had been so sharply focused on one thing or another since they met. She startled as she realized that she thought that he was handsome. _He must get a lot of _real_ groupies! No wonder he came up with that idea. It's so cute that he is embarrassed by it. _

"Thank you, again, Roy. Oh, and I have something that I'd like you to mail," she said, thinking of the hair that she had cut off. They had finished eating, so she collected the dishes, stacked them on the cart, and put them outside the door.

They went over the details of where he would go, and he took a couple of photographs of her to be used for the documents. She packed up the hair while explaining where she wanted it to go.

"I never knew that people could do that! It's so nice of you," he remarked. _All the trouble that she was in, and she thought of sick children! _

Then, they watched the eleven o'clock news, both yawning through it. Both exhausted from their long and action-filled day.

Riza went into the bathroom and changed into her pajamas. It was Roy's turn next, and he tentatively emerged in boxers and a tee shirt. He pulled a pillow off of the bed and began arranging it on the comfy chair.

"I think that we both should sleep on the bed," she told him. He blinked, surprised.

"I'll be okay on the chair. Really, um, Maya. I've slept in much worse places," he replied.

"And I'll be okay with you in the bed. I'll feel better about accepting all of your assistance if I don't evict you from your bed! I mean it, Roy."

"You're sure?" he asked.

She'd climbed under the covers, and she patted the half of the bed next to her. "Come on. Or do you prefer the other side?" she invited.

He shook his head. "I'm an equal opportunity sleeper." He climbed in beside her.

* * *

Roy settled himself in the bed on his side, facing away from Riza. After a few minutes, he felt the mattress shift as she moved. He realized that she was moving closer to him and wondered if he should move to give her more space. Before he could, he felt warm breath on his neck and then a kiss below his nape. An arm slipped over his side and caressed his belly. A hand began to tug his tee shirt up as more kisses sprinkled his neck and shoulders.

He had no idea what he should do, so he didn't move and tried to breathe softly and regularly. _Maybe she'll think I'm asleep._ It's not that he wasn't interested. How could he not be? He had found her attractive just from his "research" on her. In person, she was beautiful- more fragile, yet more intense than she had looked in the newspapers or on television.

But, he knew that she was not thinking straight. He'd had a lot of experience with women offering him sex. Most guys in rock bands attracted groupies, and the men of _No More!_ were no exception. They were not prudes, but they were not one of those party bands, either. When they began performing, Roy had made a conscious decision not to have sex with women who were too drunk or too high to be thinking straight. The decision was half altruism and half ego. He didn't want to take advantage of someone who was impaired, but he liked to think that he was appealing enough to attract sober and straight women.

She had moved again, and her tongue in his ear made him shiver. Her hand was moving down from his abdomen to under the elastic band of his boxers…

"No, Maya. Riza! Stop. You don't have to do this. You don't _want_ to do this," he said quietly but firmly, catching and holding her hand.

"I can make you feel very good," Riza replied.

He sighed. "I have no doubt about that, but then I'll feel bad. And you'll feel worse." Releasing her hand, he rolled over to face her.

"You don't find me attractive," she stated, but it was a question.

"I do! It's not that. You're beautiful. But, you don't really want me. You are too upset to think clearly." Instinctively, he put his arms around her and drew her to him, holding her close. _It's comfort that she needs, _he understood_. _

"I'm so sorry," he whispered as he held her and stroked her hair. "I'm so sorry that you lost your husband. That you've been falsely accused. That you are on the run. You don't deserve any of it.

"It's awful," he continued. "I know. You'll get through it, though. We'll get you to the safety of Aerugo and get you exonerated. Then, at least you'll be able to go back to your friends."

Riza's reply was to wretchedly weep. The sobs wracked her body. Roy held her head against his chest, and soon her tears were soaking his shirt. Eventually, her crying was reduced to whimpers. He heard her breathing become more even, and he felt her body relax. Riza had cried herself to sleep.

* * *

Mustang awoke to find himself alone in bed. As he shook away the fog of sleep, he remembered the events of the night and wondered where Riza was. Gradually, he realized that the water was running in the bathroom, and he relaxed. A couple of minutes later, she walked back into the room and noticed that Roy had awakened. He got out of bed and headed toward the bathroom.

"Thank you for last night," Riza told Roy. "I'm sorry about how I acted."

Roy shook his head. "There's no reason to apologize. I don't think any less of you at all."

"Tonight's your concert, right? Do you need to rehearse? I don't want my needs to get in your way."

"Don't worry, Maya." The ruse was about to begin. He had to be careful to use her alias. "I'll take care of your things as soon as I am dressed and have eaten. We generally rehearse in the afternoon, so I have time. I'll try to pick up an outfit or two for you, too, but first, we'd better get our back-story down. The guys think that we met at an engineering conference…"

"An engineering conference?" she nearly squeaked.

"Um, yes. My degree is in mechanical engineering, and I told the guys that's why I wanted to return to Bolshanya before them. We could tell them that you were a translator and that's how I met you."

"Sounds good to me," she assented. _So you _were_ one of those Xingese boys with the slide rules and pocket protectors! _she thought as he padded into the bathroom and shut the door.

* * *

**A/N**- Thank you for reading. Any and all reviews will be appreciated.


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N**- Yay. I received four reviews for chapter 10! Thank you to **Red Walrus**, **HarunoRin **and **artFULLYoutuvit **(who also subscribed), and sweet **StarCatcher1858**. Actually, **Red Walrus, **wise** Walrus**, gets super extra thanks. He planted the seed that grew into one of the things that happened in chapter 10. Also, he pointed out to me something about Riza's behavior that influenced the content of this chapter. Also, thank you, **Almighty-Hanako-Chan**, if you read this, for favoriting _Papa's Little AllStar_.

Hiromu Arakawa is the creator of Fullmetal Alchemist, not ssadropout.

* * *

Amazingly enough, Roy's errands went smoothly. He hadn't expected withdrawing the money to be a problem, but he hadn't known what to expect with the forger. Per Riza's instructions, Roy pressed the buzzer, and when a voice answered, he gave the password that identified him as being there on behalf of the Bredas. Heymans Breda had secretly helped the occasional Drachman dissident get to Aerugo, because in many respects, the Drachman government was even more repressive than the Amestrian one. The woman who admitted Mustang turned out to be forty-ish and friendly.

When the forger didn't have documents to counterfeit, she turned her artistic talents to more creative arenas. Roy could see that the woman had been painting a stormy seascape, but she seemed to be okay with the interruption. "I'd wondered if Mrs. Breda would be wanting my services. These are terrible things that are happening to her. Mr. Breda was an excellent man, and I am sure that she is innocent," she told Roy in heavily accented Amestrian. "Ah. These photographs will do well. She made a good disguise." She left the room for a couple of minutes and returned with some blank Drachman documents.

"I had actually begun to prepare some papers in case she needed them in a hurry. I didn't know what nationality she would want to be, since she speaks several languages fluently. I can have these ready in about two hours. Is that good for you?"

"That would be great," Roy told her. "Thank you. I have a few things to do while you work."

The line was long at the postal station. He was nervous, and he tried to subtly avoid the cameras, not wanting anything he did to somehow lead Bradley's people to Riza. He accomplished mailing off Riza's- Maya's- hair to _Kool Kidz_, and then he found a store that catered to hip young women but didn't look too expensive. He'd never shopped for women's clothes before, so he requested assistance from one of the sales girls. The girl was more than happy to help even though she gave no indication of recognizing Roy. _No More! _was popular, but the members could pretty much get around unmolested. He described Maya to his helper, and the two of them selected two pairs of jeans, one black and one indigo, a couple of tank tops, a purple sweater, and an embroidered peasant blouse. On impulse, he picked out a couple of pretty clips for her hair. Roy figured that he could augment her new wardrobe with a couple of _No More!_ tee shirts. By the time he'd completed the two chores, it was time to return to the counterfeiter.

The documents were ready when he got there. They looked great to him, so he reached into his pocket to pay the forger. Maya had told him that the cost would be the Drachman equivalent of twenty-five thousand cenz, so he had withdrawn in excess of that amount.

She shook her head. "Payment will be one thousand cenz," Mustang was told. "It is to cover the cost of the materials. I want to assist Mrs. Breda. She is a special woman. Help her as much as you can."

"I will. I'll tell her of your kindness. And thank you so very much," said Roy, moved by the woman's generosity.

* * *

The hotel room was unoccupied when Roy returned, and there was no note. Maya's backpack was gone, but her toiletries were still in the bathroom. Roy placed the bag of clothes on the desk and hid the forged documents between the mattress and box springs, though he was not sure why he did that. He decided to check with Havoc about Maya, and the lanky guitarist quickly answered Mustang's knock on his hotel room door.

"He's back!" Havoc bellowed as he opened the door for Roy. "Thank goodness. Your little lady's wiping us out, and now we have an excuse to shoo her away."

Roy was surprised to see Maya sitting cross-legged on the bed with Falman, holding a hand of playing cards. A smile was on her lips, but it did not extend to her eyes. "My cramps are better," she said, cueing Roy about what she had told his band mates. "When Vato came looking for you and you were gone, he invited me to join Jean and him."

"Glad you're feeling better, Maya," Roy replied, " and glad that you found some company. It all worked out okay. I got everything done that I needed to this morning."

"Gee, I never knew that the Drachman chicks were such card sharks," Havoc whined. "You should have warned us, Mustang."

"It's all news to me. Maya and I haven't really had time to play cards," Mustang sniffed. "Come on, Maya. Let's get away from these dolts."

Riza rose, leaving her winnings on the bed.

"Hey, Maya, you won fair-and-square," called Falman. "Take your… take!"

"A Drachman lady would never take advantage of such gracious folk. It was enough that you entertained me while Roy was out." She walked to Roy and looped her arm around his waist, hoping that it was what a groupie would do.

"I like her, Roy," Havoc grinned. Then, switching gears, he remarked, "Rehearsal and sound check are at three. Riding over with us?"

"Sounds good," Roy answered. "See you when? Quarter of?"

"Sounds good," was Havoc's echoing reply.

* * *

"I like them," Riza told Roy. "You're all nice guys. I thought that rock musicians would be more self-absorbed."

"We sort of are self-absorbed. We bask in the attention and flattery. We're almost junkies for it. But otherwise, we're really just normal guys. Both Falman and Havoc are great. They're good musicians and good friends. I met Havoc when I was eighteen. I had started at the Central Technical Institute, and he was going to the music conservatory. We ended up at the same club and jammed. We had a musical connection. Jean's the nicest guy you could imagine, and he is a fantastic musician. Vato is older and has been around more. He's quiet, but he's smart and experienced.

"I love being in the band with them. Sometimes, I don't know if I could make it without them," he continued.

"Make it as a musician?" she asked, confused.

"No. Just make it through."

Riza didn't know what to say to that, but they had arrived back in their room, and he showed her the clothes he had purchased. She was pleased with the selections. "I'll get you a couple of band tee shirts, too. A groupie might wear one of those," he added.

There was an uncomfortable pause.

"Roy, about what I did last night…" Riza began.

"Say no more. It's okay," he broke in.

"I just need for you to know that I've never done anything like that before. It was very uncharacteristic of me. I never cheated on Heymans. Oh, I hope that I'm right about there being nothing after death." Tears began to well up in her eyes again. "That's the worst part of how I feel," she continued. "The thought of that infinitesimally small possibility that he could have been watching me come on to you like that makes me sick. The idea that I hurt him makes me want to cry. He doesn't deserve it. I'm so ashamed."

"You shouldn't be ashamed. It was no big thing, Maya. No one will ever know but you and me. For what it's worth, I really think that I understand why you did it, and I think that your husband would understand, too. You just really needed to be consoled," he said softly. He moved towards her and opened his arms. As she moved into his arms, her weeping increased.

"I could tell that it wasn't really you, and I know that you don't feel _that_ way about me. That's why I said _no_. You just need a friend. I want to be that friend," Roy crooned. "We all need comfort, and friends forgive mistakes and even faults. Thank goodness my friends do."

She felt a little better and hoped that her actions hadn't been as awful as they seemed to her. They then discussed what she'd do the rest of the day. It was decided that it would not be safe for her to wander down town or go to the library, that it would be best for her to tag along with him as much as possible. So, she grabbed her book and backpack and went to find out what happened during a sound check and rehearsal.

* * *

Riza had always been serious, even as a young girl, and she had considered rock and roll music to be frivolous. She had never really paid attention to it, and once she had married Breda, no one in her social circle seemed to listen to it. She had assumed that it would be _loud_, but when Roy handed her the earplugs, she had thought that he was overdoing protecting her. She told him that.

Mustang shook his head. "It gets _really_ loud, Maya. Lot's of the older rock musicians have hearing loss. _We_ wear earplugs. These are a special kind that let a person hear the sound as it should be heard, but they protect your ears. I strongly suggest that you wear them!"

_Well, he should know what he's talking about._ Hawkeye inserted the plugs. She ended up glad that she did. It was clear that the earplugs were lessening the pressure of the sound. She started out listlessly reading her book and still feeling bad about last night, but the mechanics of the sound check and rehearsal began to get her attention.

Sound technicians worked on placement of speakers and fiddled with dials as the band ran through a few songs. Then, after the techies were satisfied, the three musicians took turns standing in various spots around the audience's area; listening to the other two play. It appeared that everyone was satisfied with the sound, so the three musicians went back to practicing.

The music began to pull her in. It was much more complex than she had expected, with Roy's base lines acting as counterpoint to Jean's guitar parts. Mustang had been correct about Havoc's musicianship. Roy had mentioned that Havoc had studied cello at the conservatory while working on the guitar on his own. Upon graduation, Jean had actually been offered a position- playing cello in the East City Philharmonic Orchestra, but he had opted to form _No More!_ with Falman and Mustang. Roy had also praised Falman's drumming, and Riza could tell that the gray-haired man was putting out intricate rhythms and not just pounding like a cave man.

On the other hand, Mustang had not been so forthcoming about his own musical talents. He had stated that he was the weakest link in the band. That may have been true to the extent that he might not have quite the same technical prowess that the other two possessed, but his bass lines were wonderful. Roy slipped seamlessly from providing rhythmic lines, when appropriate, to complex melodies that complemented Havoc's often-complex melodies. Riza also liked Mustang's singing voice.

Hawkeye found herself transfixed by the sonic power of the music, and then she began to listen to the lyrics. Since she had spent time talking to the men, she shouldn't have been surprised by the words, but she was. _I didn't know that rock lyrics went beyond, "I love you, Baby. Give it to me, Baby." No More!'s_ songs were about trying to figure out about life, making choices, being disaffected, and, yes, love and sex. Riza was beginning to feel as if she had really been missing something by ignoring this musical genre. She wondered if there were lots of other bands that covered the same territory or if Mustang's band was the only one. She'd have to ask him.

At about six o'clock, the guys decided to wrap things up. Havoc and Falman invited Mustang and Maya to join them for dinner, and they did. Roy had whispered that he thought that it was a good idea. She'd get out, and there was safety in numbers. "Who would expect Riza Hawkeye Breda to be hanging with three hot guys?" he joked. She knew what he meant- he wasn't insulting her ability to attract men- but the remark made her think of Heymans and depressed her. An ironic thought floated into her head. Weren't there cultures where women tore their clothes and cut off their hair when their husbands died? Despite the fact that it happened before her spouse's death, Riza was beginning to think of the shearing of her hair as an act of mourning. But she agreed to dinner with the guys and sort of looked forward to going out.

At dinner, she marveled how the three men were so relaxed with each other. Falman seemed to know something about nearly everything without sounding like a know-it-all. Havoc could be side-splittingly funny. Riza realized that these men- Havoc and Mustang at least- were closer to her in age than Heymans and the various diplomatic people had been, but, as much as she enjoyed their camaraderie, she felt like she was an adult, and they were not. Still, she actually had a pretty good time with them, considering her recent widowhood.

* * *

The concert was sold out and went well. Riza watched intently, earplugs engaged, from the wings. The Drachman audience called for encore after encore, and the Amestrian boys obliged. Finally, they ended it and went backstage and into the green room. It was already crowded with fans of the band. There were boys with eyeliner and black fingernails. The girls were totally tricked out, looking to impress. Riza had put on the peasant blouse with the black jeans and thought that, with the ton of eye makeup and the cute hair clips, she had looked really rocker chic. Obviously, she had been wrong. She was probably the most conservatively dressed female there. It was wild how the girls looked at Havoc, Falman, and Mustang with…lust. That was the only way to describe it. One of the girls had _I LOVE ROY MUSTANG_ tattooed around a heart on her biceps.

Roy brought her a bottle of water, earning her several very nasty looks. People were talking and music was blasting, but he managed to ask her to just hold on until he signed a few autographs. Forty-five minutes later, they were on a taxi back to the hotel where she practically ran into the shower to wash off the smoke residue.

She got into bed, and after he scrubbed away the sweat and smoke, Roy joined her.

"Are you okay? Was it too difficult?" he asked her.

"I think that it all actually helped distract me," she replied. "I'm a little tense, though. I hope that I can sleep."

They decided to read for a while. Some noises in the hall signified that Havoc and Falman were returning to their rooms, and eventually Riza and Roy relaxed enough to try to sleep. By silent but mutual agreement, he spooned her against him and put his arms around her. He heard and felt muffled sobs for a few minutes, but eventually they both slept.

Later this very same day, they would leave Drachma for Aerugo- via Amestris.

* * *

**A/N**- I hope that you liked this chapter. Thank you for reading. Not only do I love reviews, but my cat does, too. I promised her some catnip if I get at least two reviews! The more, the merrier.


	12. Chapter 12

**A/N**- Something weird happened (or ***I*** happened) to my mail again, and I lost the names of one or two people who had subscribed. I really wanted to thank you in this note, and I am sorry that I can't.

I do want to thank my reviewers: **Kristie94** (who also favorited and subscribed), **HarunoRin**, **artFULLYoutuvit**, **Red Walrus**, and **StarCatcher1858**. I was ecstatic about getting reviews, and my cat enjoyed her catnip.

Disclaimer: I do not CLAIM dat I own DIS Fullmetal Alchemist thing.

* * *

_No More!_'s touring vehicle was not particularly high end, but it was pretty comfortable. The band traveled on a bus that they had purchased and customized. Many seats had been removed to make the changes, but there were enough seats for everyone to have his own, plus there were extras for friends. There was a bathroom and even a tiny soundproofed room where a person could go and rest on a cot, away from the sometimes-raucous noise the musicians made. They had also rented an equipment truck that was driven by two of the roadies.

The guys had gone out of their ways to make Riza comfortable, and they didn't seem to have had any issues with her coming along. Nonetheless, neither Falman nor Havoc were bringing "friends," and she was not sure that all of them being in a confined space for hours at a time was going to work. She and Roy would have to keep up the ruse in close quarters and for extended periods of time. Were they good enough actors to pull it off?

It was late morning when they all filed into the bus and found seats. Roy and Riza had discussed it, and they decided to sit together at least for the beginning of the ride. They had nervously checked and rechecked the Maya Ostrova documents, and each time they examined the papers, they had seemed perfect. Everything should be fine unless somehow someone from customs saw through Riza's disguise.

It would be a few hours before they arrived at the Drachman-Amestrian border. They would cross at a point some miles west of Fort Briggs, where the famous general, Olivier Mira Armstrong, was prepared to protect Amestris if the fragile treaty between the two countries failed. The band was not just passing through Amestris on the way to Aerugo. They were scheduled to play concerts as they traveled south. And, Riza had her own secret agenda. If she could, she'd contact people who might be able to prove that she was innocent. And, no matter what, she was determined to learn if the train crash that had killed her husband had been an accident or something else. She didn't _really_ think that the train had been caused to crash on purpose. It wasn't even that she couldn't imagine Bradley being cavalier about all those lives. It was that a crash wouldn't have been a surefire way to kill anyone, let alone a specific person. Heymans would have survived the wreck had he not tried to save those people. Still, she just _had_ to know exactly why that train wrecked.

Roy and Riza arranged themselves on their seat, trying to look like rocker and groupie. He threw his arm around Riza, and she put her hand on his knee and leaned against him.

"We've got a long ride ahead, so why don't you tell me about yourself? About Riza Hawkeye, I mean." Roy suggested. "Where did you grow up? Do you have family? How did you learn so many languages?"

"Do you really want me to talk about my life?" she asked, dubiously.

"Why not? It can't hurt for us to get to know each other. It can only help us appear to be closer," reasoned Roy.

"Okay, but this means that you have to tell me about you, too," Riza replied. After Roy nodded, she began her story.

"My mother died when I was four-years-old. I hardly remember her at all. My neighbors told me that my father had once been loving and happy, but I only remember him as cold and bitter. He was a scientist, and research was all he cared about- or seemed to care about.

"I spent a lot of time with my next door neighbors. They had emigrated from Drachma, and they spoke their native tongue a lot. I picked it up easily. When I was fourteen, I got a part time job at a restaurant owned by Aerugans. Once again, I found it easy to learn their language…

"My father died when I was eighteen. I was just getting ready to go to college. He left no money, but I sold his house. With the house money and scholarships, I was able to pay for college and my living expenses. I had hated my life and was thrilled to leave my past behind. My father had had no relatives, and he had become estranged from my mother's family after she died. I don't know much about her folks, but I may have a grandfather in the army…

"In my senior year at university, recruiters from the government approached me. They needed people who could speak and learn languages…

"Heymans took me under his wing. He was ten years older than I, but I was a pretty mature twenty-two-year-old…

"So we got married. At first, we were stationed in Aerugo…

"The position in Drachma was a promotion…

"So I jumped off of the balcony and found an abandoned house where I changed and chopped off my hair…

"And I think that you know the rest," she finished.

Roy patted her hand that was resting on his knee. He looked at her fingernails that now had chipped polish and wondered if their being chipped and ragged bothered her. She must have been very well groomed before all of this happened. It was heartbreaking how her life had taken such abrupt turns due to loss: the death of her mother, the evaporation of her father's affection, the death of her father, the crisis that her husband had created, and then his death. He didn't know how she had managed to keep going before, but he was determined to help her now.

"Do you know anything about the grandfather in the army? His name or rank?" Roy inquired. "Maybe he could help you somehow."

"I only vaguely remember him. My mother's maiden name was Grumman. That's all I know about him."

"That's good. That's a starting point! I'll get to a library and research him when we get to our next stop." Roy hoped that Grumman was in a position to help Riza. The estrangement between them was not her fault. Surely this Grumman would move mountains for his hapless granddaughter.

"Okay, thanks. I appreciate your looking into him. But now it's your turn. I have a question for you. You told me that you're the weakest link in the band. But, Vato told me that you write nearly all of the lyrics and some of the music. Havoc said that you were the one that shaped the group. Why so modest?"

Roy paused before answering. "Havoc and Falman are my friends, so they support me and try to build me up. I can be…moody, and they want me to be happy. They'll always tell people the good things about me. I guess that I didn't mean that the band was totally carrying me, but I _am_ the worst musician in the group. I was just trying to be honest.

"So, let's see. My life? Well, you probably guessed that my birth mother was from Xing. My father was Amestrian. They died when I was eight, but I do have happy memories of them, like playing in the snow. They were killed when they were walking to pick me up from a friend's birthday party, and a drunk driver careened his car onto the sidewalk. I remember waiting and waiting for them, and then the police came to the friend's house…

"My father's sister, Chris Mustang, took me in. She has always been wonderful to me. I call her _Mom _…

"I was always good at the sciences and at building things, just like my father, so I decided to go to the institute. My mother was a musician, so I guess some of that had rubbed off of me, too…

"I don't plan to be in a rock band forever. I want to use my engineering skills to improve peoples' lives by…"

Riza listened to Mustang's account of his life and noted that he didn't mention anything about his love life. She couldn't resist asking about it. "Roy. What about girlfriends- or boyfriends?"

His pale complexion flushed a little, but he replied. "Well, it's girls. I guess that I've dated a lot, especially since I've been in bands, but I've never been serious."

"Just haven't met the right girl?" Riza teased.

But Riza had set Roy on a mental track, and his reply was serious. "I doubt if there is a right girl. I doubt if I am the right guy."

"Why do you say that?"

"I can be … solitary. I don't want to be around people when I get into one of my … slumps."

"Are you saying that you suffer from depression?" Riza asked.

Roy shrugged. "I've never been diagnosed as having depression. Mom took me to a psychologist, but he just thought that I was just still adjusting to my parents' deaths. Later, a school psychologist just said that it was typical teenage angst. Maybe I'm just slow and will still grow out of it," he laughed without mirth. Then he got serious again. "I actually have been feeling pretty well for a while, but a couple of years ago, I did come close to attempting suicide. It's why Havoc and Falman treat me with kid gloves." He paused, again. "Do you want to hear about it?"

"Only if you feel like talking about it," Riza spoke in a soothing manner.

"I kind of do want to tell you. Maybe because you've been through so much, yet you haven't mentioned wanting to stop the pain the only surefire way." He took a breath.

"I had a friend named Maria. Maria Ross. We didn't go out, but we had a lot of classes together at the institute and became very close. We hung out together and talked for hours. Went to movies and concerts, stuff like that. One Thursday, she asked me to take a trip with her to Resembool that weekend. A friend of hers was marrying a man from Resembool. The groom's father was dying, so that's why the wedding was planned very quickly and held so far away. Maria asked me to be her plus one, but I refused. I refused because I had a hot date that Saturday. Maria pleaded. She said that my date would understand and still go out with me, but I didn't want to wait to go out with her.

"Maria decided to hitch-hike to the wedding. I didn't even think anything of it when she didn't show up for class on Monday. By Tuesday, I began to be concerned, but not overly. By Wednesday, I was getting really worried that I hadn't heard from her, so I called her parents who called her friend and learned that Maria had never made it to the wedding. Her body was found in a gully about half way between the institute and Resembool.

"Maria would still be alive if I had been a _real_ friend, but all I had cared about was that I had a date with this gorgeous girl and that I had a chance to get laid. Her death made me realize that I wasn't such hot stuff. I had always spouted talk about wanting to help people, but I hadn't even had the decency in me to help one good friend.

"I can't believe that I'm telling you this. I don't even think that Falman knows. I don't think that Havoc has told him. Only Havoc and my mom know.

"My mom had a few guns," he continued. "I went home the next weekend and swiped one. I didn't want her to be the one to find me dead, so I decided to do it at school. I planned to lock myself in my dorm room and assumed that some official would find my carcass a few days later, after people began to miss me. But I ran into Havoc on my way back from my visit home, and he noticed that I was acting weirdly. Later that day, he came to visit me on campus. He made up some lame excuse, but it was to check on me. While he was visiting, I had to go to the bathroom. By the time that I returned, he had searched my room and found the gun.

"He stayed with me until the urge had passed and I was no longer obsessed with dying. Jean refused to leave my side until I went to a psychiatrist and got help. I eventually understood that Maria's death was not my fault, but I also know that I probably could have prevented it."

Roy was dumbfounded when Riza turned in the seat, hugged him, and kissed his cheek.

"Now I understand better why you're helping me. I still had a small pocket of mistrust of you, because I couldn't figure out why you'd go so far out on a limb to help a stranger. It's your nature to be helpful, but wanting to atone- not that you have a reason to- compounds it.

"What ever happens, Roy, you need to know that I think that you are a very good person. You really_ have_ helped me. Even if things go wrong, you've given me back some faith in the human race." She hadn't released him while she spoke, and she kissed his cheek again.

"Roy Mustang," she spoke into his ear, "I really like you, and I'm proud to be your fake groupie!"

Despite himself, Roy Mustang laughed a real laugh, and Riza Hawkeye Breda joined in.

Further front on the bus, Jean Havoc was taking an occasional peak at Roy and Maya. While not really a meddlesome person, Jean always kept an eye on Roy Mustang. This thing with Maya was very unusual behavior for Roy, and Havoc hoped that he wasn't wrong about thinking that it was a good change.

* * *

Riza was discreetly trying to breathe in a way that would calm her. Their bus was next in line to go through Amestrian customs. She glanced over at Roy, who seemed to have the same idea. She was reasonably confidant that the papers were fine. Roy had explained how, even though it had been a rush job, the forger had already prepared documents that were complete except for the information about Riza's alias. She had always been a dependable supplier, and she had seemed to like the Bredas. Riza was much more nervous about either simply being recognized or creating suspicion through jumpy behavior. Roy got up from his seat and sat next to her.

"It'll be fine," he whispered.

Two Amestrian customs officials boarded the bus. They asked if anyone had anything to declare, and the few things that the guys had purchased were displayed. They first examined the driver's papers and then moved on to Falman and Havoc. One of the officials had read about _No More!'s _tour of Drachma, and he asked for autographs for his teenage daughter. Then, the officials were talking to Roy and Riza.

"So you're Drachman. What is your business in Amestris?" demanded the burly man.

"I was planning to do research in various cities next month, but then I met Roy, so I thought that I'd leave early and spend time with him first."

The two customs officials conferred and decided to separate Riza and Roy. Roy left the bus with the burly man, leaving Riza on the bus with the thinner one.

"And how did you two meet?" Riza was asked.

"I was a translator at an engineering conference that Roy attended," she replied, knowing that Roy, and even Havoc and Falman would answer the same way. A couple of minutes and a few questions later, Roy was back on the bus. He kissed her gently on the lips and held her hand as the officials conferred.

"Okay. Welcome back to you guys, and enjoy your visit, Miss Ostrova."

They had crossed the border free and clear- for now.

* * *

Roy couldn't believe it! There were only a couple of Grummans in the army, and the only one who seemed to be old enough to be Riza's grandfather was a general! Of course, he was on the other side of the country in East City, but he was a _general_! He really might be in a position to help. He might even already have information. If Riza didn't know much about Grumman, chances were good that no one knew that he was related to her. The general would probably not be under surveillance.

They had arrived at West City the night before after having played one night stands in two of the smaller towns between the border and West City. So far, so good. The concerts had gone well, and the newspapers had indicated that the search for Riza Hawkeye Breda was still focused in Drachma. The news sources alleged that the government did not believe that she had left that country. He knew that they couldn't totally trust what was in the newspapers, so they continued to be careful.

But after learning about Grumman, Mustang was nurturing a new idea.

One of his buddies at the institute had been a kid named Kain Fuery. Kain had entered the institute at the age of fifteen. As smart as most of the students at the institute were, Kain was smarter. He was a freaking genius with electronics. Roy had taken Kain under his wing and had even switched rooms to live with Fuery. The bespectacled Fuery had been timid and scrawny, and his original roommate had been a bully. Mustang's kind move had earned him Kain's undying loyalty.

Fuery had designed a lot of the band's sound system, and there wasn't a band around with a better one. These days, even though he was in grad school, Kain was into working on various types of communication and surveillance devices. He had invented bugs, recorders, and even secure but portable telephones. Mustang was certain that Fuery would enjoy a challenge, especially if it benefited an innocent person in trouble.

A plan was forming in Mustang's mind. Fuery would be able to come up with a small and concealable listening and recording device. Grumman might be able to gain access into the palaces of power. If they could record Bradley or Kimblee or one of their minions discussing Riza, the truth of her innocence would be proven.

* * *

Maya Ostrova had left the hotel with Roy Mustang and told him that she was going to look for another outfit to wear. They shared a quick kiss for anyone who happened to be watching, and Roy walked away toward the main West City library. Riza turned in the opposite direction, which was, unbeknownst to Roy, the way to a different library branch. Mustang would not have approved, as Maya was required to show identification, when she had back issues of newspapers pulled from the stacks. Well, perhaps _that_ wouldn't have concerned Roy. After all, there were lots of different articles in those newspapers. But Roy would certainly have disapproved when she asked the librarian about how a person might go about obtaining copies of police reports and railroad records.

"These are unusual requests, miss," stated the librarian, who was not the same one who had pulled the newspapers and seen Maya's identification. "What is it that you are looking for?"

Riza thought that she heard a bit of something odd in the librarian's voice and decided to back off. She exaggerated her Drachman accent a bit and hesitated over her words. "I am an intern for Rail Drachma," Maya explained. "I am in Amestris with my boyfriend, and I thought that I could impress my superiors at Rail Drachma if I researched that very sad train accident. What do you think would make me look good with my bosses? I really don't know where to start."

The librarian studied her face a minute, and Riza tried to look confused instead of terrified. _What a stupid move! I can't believe I did that _fluttered in her mind.

But the librarian seemed mollified. "Actually, I just heard about it on the radio. A large truck stalled while crossing the tracks. The truck driver was able to get out in time, but the train couldn't stop. The authorities were waiting for toxicology results to decide whether to charge the truck driver or not. They are not charging him. The truck appeared to be well maintained, but it broke down in a terrible spot. The driver was sober." She shook her head. "These things happen. Who knows why?"

Maya nodded. "It is very sad. I think that it will be in the papers later, so I will bring the newspapers to my bosses."

Riza tried to walk away in an ordinary manner, but she wanted to run. She felt nauseous and cold, both for her husband and for her dangerous mistake. She still wanted to read the reports and investigate further, but she'd practice more self control and do it when she wasn't endangering good people. As she headed out to look for the clothes she had told Roy she was going to buy, she desperately hoped that she had not set a dangerous downhill snowball in motion.

* * *

**A/N**- I hope that the chapter wasn't too long and that you enjoyed it. Poor Riza. She's usually so cool and rational, but she's really shaken up these days. Let's hope that Fuery and Grumman help her. You know how I feel about reviews. I love hearing from anyone and everyone, and you are a real help. Thank you.


	13. Chapter 13

**A/N**- I apologize for the delay in posting this chapter. I have been _crazy_ busy. The next chapter will also be late for the same reason.

My grateful thanks go to chapter 12's reviewers: **Red Walrus**, **Kristie94**, **StarCatcher1858**, and **artFULLYoutuvit**. **StarCatcher1858** gets extra smiles for adding this story to her favorites. **Amplyfiedsmile **and **theflamefangirl**: thanks for subscribing. **Achino-Alien**, I am honored to have been added to your favorite author list.

I've glanced at the raws for 105. (Sigh of relief.) If I were the creator and owner of FMA, I would have better understood what happened!

* * *

Kain Fuery was fiddling with a transistor when the phone rang. He was a careful man, because he did work that required secrecy in order to protect his clients. His phone line was not only secure, but if anyone ever checked his phone records, neither the list of incoming nor of outgoing calls would reveal much of interest- or even anything true.

He carefully put the delicate chip down and pushed his glasses back up his nose. The clever geek had also rigged the telephone to show who was calling. This call was from an unknown caller and was from a payphone in West City. He considered this situation. Very few people had this particular number- it was only for close friends and his best clients- and none lived in West City. _Ah. Roy Mustang's band was touring and was probably out that way._ Kain picked up the telephone handset.

Roy began talking immediately, because he realized that Kain might have guessed whom it was but would not be sure. "How are you doing, Kain? It's Roy. I hope that I am not interrupting anything big."

"I'm always glad to talk to you, Roy. How's the tour going?"

"Things are going pretty well. The Drachmans seemed to be into our music. The people there are friendly, and they are pretty much like Amestrians. The cities look really different from ours, though. You can tell that it's a whole different culture and aesthetic." Roy cleared his throat. "Excuse me. I've got a little frog."

"Are you sure it's not a little hoarse?" asked Fuery. If the phone line had not been secure, Fuery would have said, "Cold or allergies?"

Knowing that he could speak freely, Mustang began to talk in that in that intense manner of his. After they finished talking and had hung up, Fuery leaned back in his chair and smiled both happily and nervously. Kain may have been quiet and shy, but he had a taste for adventure. _How had Roy Mustang had gotten mixed up in the latest national scandal? This was going to be dangerous, but it was also going to be major fun. _

Roy had related his adventures of the past few days. When Kain had said that he wanted to help, Roy explained to Kain how he wanted to eventually try to record conversation that would exonerate Mrs. Breda, unless Kain had a better idea. First, though, they had to contact General Grumman. Roy and Riza had discussed how they could convince the general that they really were Riza Hawkeye and people trying to help her. Being that Riza and her grandfather were not only estranged but also had never really known each other, this was not so easy. Finally, Riza thought she remembered a song that her mother had sung to her as a toddler. Riza recalled that her mother had said that she had learned it from _her_ father, Riza's grandfather. It was an odd little song, and it should make Grumman trust Fuery. Roy had decided to contact Fuery first, because Roy, though he knew nothing about the military, thought that it might be difficult to get to speak directly to the general. Not only did Fuery add a layer of distance between Riza and her pursuers, but he also would be able to devise a direct and undetectable line to Grumman.

Fuery put the transistor and its fellow components aside. He was ahead of schedule on that project, and a life might be at stake with this new job that Roy had brought to him. Not that he wouldn't drop whatever he was doing for Roy Mustang anyway …

* * *

There were four women named _Maya Ostrova _enumerated in the latest Drachman census Tammy discovered. One was in her fifties and a second in her sixties. The two remaining Maya Ostrova's were in their twenties, and both were accounted for. Her Maya Ostrova was not a real Maya Ostrova. Tammy swore.

Now she _knew_ that the Maya Ostrova she had suspected was worthy of suspicion. It would be quite a coincidence if the firecrackers had nothing to do with the disappearance of the girl. She might _not_ be Riza Hawkeye Breda; she could be a girl who didn't want her parents or a boyfriend to find her. But, if that were the case, why did she disappear right _then_? The firecrackers must have been a distraction so that she could leave. _How the hell did I fall for that ploy? She must have had help_ Tammy reasoned.

Tammy had interviewed all of the girls from the fourth floor of _The Oasis_. None of them had admitted to even having met Maya, except for Sophia Vorvada. Vorvada had not been at the hotel at the time of Maya's escape. To Tammy, this had meant that she could have been Maya's helper. However, Vorvada's allegation of having worked late panned out. Tammy had also interviewed each person at the Amestrian Embassy. Everyone had an alibi for the time of the distraction. All diplomatic personnel had been invited to a command performance of the Drachman Ballet, and those who hadn't attended had been either sick in bed or on duty. The workers of the housekeeping and support staff could also prove where they were. She had also checked all Amestrian customs records. None of the people who had entered Drachma after the accusation against Riza Breda seemed to have any connection to the wanted spy.

If the person who had helped Mrs. Breda was a Drachman, Tammy was shit out of luck. Drachmans were basically off limits. She'd managed to talk to a couple of the Drachmans who'd had contact with the Bredas including two in the courier community and several of the native embassy staff. No one knew a damned thing, if they were to be believed. She'd taken the blurry photos from her watch camera to the two best-known forgers in the area. They'd denied having seen that woman or Hawkeye Breda. She had no authority to "persuade" them to talk.

_So, where would Maya Ostrova have gone? That would depend on her true identity. If she were just some Drachman girl who thought someone had a detective investigating her, she would probably have gone to some other city. If she were Riza Hawkeye Breda, she'd try to get to a country that had no extradition pact with Amestris. That would be Xing or Aerugo. It would not be so easy for her blend in in Xing, so Aerugo it is. _

Whoever had helped Mrs. Breda was clever. The ingredients used to make the firecrackers were just every day items that couldn't be traced. How would two- or more- clever people try to get to Aerugo? Would the dare try to travel through Amestris? Tammy picked up the phone to contact customs yet again.

* * *

At first Riza had felt embarrassed about dancing around to the music. It had begun at that first concert with a tapping of her foot and had progressed into a kind of swaying to the beat. There had been dancing at many diplomatic parties, but those dances had specific steps: waltzing and fox-trotting and the like. Those dances had _nothing_ in common with the way that her body was moving to the music of _No More!_ She felt as if she were releasing her bad feelings, shaking them out of her. In her old life- it was in the past and would never resume- she would have exercised or gone to target practice when she suffered from stress or anxiety. This kind of dancing had a similar affect on her. And, even though she felt outrageous and even foolish, no one was watching her. _Everyone_ was dancing in the same crazy way. People at the concert jumped up and down, they swayed, they did a thing with their heads that Havoc had said was called _head banging_, and they moved in some random but _true_ way that their bodies seemed to do on their own.

During the first couple of concerts, she had stayed back stage, afraid to join the audience. These audiences had nothing in common with the audiences she had sat in at classical music performances. _Sat_ was the operative word. These people did _not_ sit. They stood, sometimes even in their seats! They left their seats and ran up to the front of the stage. They did a bizarre flailing thing with their arms that she couldn't figure out, so she had asked Roy about it.

"They are pretending to play guitar. It's called _air guitar_," Roy had explained. _It was all so alien, but it was fun_, Riza thought. _It _almost_ helps._

During the second concert in Amestris, she had ventured out into the audience, feeling the need to absorb the energy closer up to the fans. It was chaotic, and it was what she needed. _The masses and the movement make me feel safe- for a while. _

Tonight, as she was gyrating amidst the bedlam, she felt a tap on her shoulder. A boy with red hair- maybe it was because she also had red hair, fake though it was, that he offered it to her- was holding out a crude-looking cigarette. _Omigod! I know what this is. What should I do??? I have to act like it's nothing unusual._ So, she smiled, took the _joint_, and drew a little of the fragrant smoke into her mouth and lungs- and started coughing like her lungs would explode.

Roy laughed like a maniac when she told him. They had entered their latest hotel room, and he had collapsed onto the bed in hysterics. "Oh, I wish that I had been a fly on the wall to see that!" He could barely choke the words out. She shocked herself by grabbing the free pillow and pummeling him with it. He curled up into a fetal position to protect himself from her assault, gasping for breath between his guffaws.

_Who could have predicted any of this? It's stranger than fiction. In the last week-and-a-half, I've become a widow, started running for my life, smoked illegal drugs, and am sharing a room with a man that I just met. A man that I just met but somehow feel comfortable with. _She had stopped smacking Mustang and was staring at nothing. Roy sat up on the bed and waved his hand in front of her face.

"Earth to Riza. Come in, please."

"Stop it! Shut up! You have no manners! It's not nice to laugh at people!" she shouted, obviously not angry at all.

He was still snickering, so she swatted him one more time with the pillow before stalking off to the bathroom, shaking with silent laughter.

In the bathroom, she snorted and sat on the edge of the bathtub. She didn't want to think about things. She knew that she should think- needed to think things out. But when she thought about things, the pain and confusion made her want to stop. When she managed to avoid thinking, she felt guilty. There was no winning at this.

_With all that has happened, how can I manage to have fun? It's all too incomprehensible. I lose my husband, my life style, and could lose my life. I gain a sweet, smart, funny, and, oh yes, good-looking knight in shining armor. I'm living a totally different life style, and I kind of like it. _

_Oh, Hey, I miss you and everything that I had with you, but I feel so alive. Everything in our lives was great, but it was so routine until…well, until it wasn't. Now, my life is all adrenaline and noise. And yet, I have comfort. I hope it's okay with you that I take comfort from Roy Mustang. I'm strong, but I'm not that strong that I don't need comforting. _

Back in the bedroom, Roy had flopped back down on the bed, his eyes squeezed tightly shut. His laughter had dissipated quickly. _What the hell is wrong with me? Am I insane? _ Before Riza had gotten that far away look in her eyes, he had nearly grabbed her and pulled her onto the bed with him. She had looked so bemused that he had really _wanted_ to hold her and _tickle_ her until they were both out of control with laughter. Luckily for him, her mind had traveled to a serious place, and he had restrained himself. _She's just lost her husband, and I'm ready to make a pass at her. She'd never let me help her if I did that. Hell, she'd hate my guts. _He had said, "Earth to Riza," but _he_ was the one that needed to come down to Earth.

* * *

"Hello."

"Umm, hello. This is Kain, a friend of Roy's. Is he available?"

"Oh! Kain. Roy is out, but this is Maya. I think that Roy has told you about me."

"Yes he has. How are things going?"

"Pretty well, I guess. Considering. Could I give Roy a message for you, Kain?"

"Umm, yes. Thank you, Maya. Please tell Roy that things are going well with me. I was able to, umm, visit my grandfather, and he is just great. He said that he'd help me out, umm, lend me the money. He said that he knows that the problems between us were not my fault, and he, umm, loves me, " Fuery told her. The young genius was always nervous when talking to people whom he did not know well.

"Also," Fuery continued, "he said that he had heard about the, umm, slander against me. He never believed it for a second, and he has thoughts about how I can prove that it's all lies. I don't think that he'll let me down. I really think he means it."

"That's wonderful news! I will be sure to tell Roy. He'll be happy to hear that things are going well … for you," Riza replied. _I wish that I could thank him._

"Yes. It is great news. Anyway, I'll keep Roy updated about my projects."

"Good luck, Kain. Take care."

"Bye, Maya."

_If I'm really lucky, one of these days I'll get to meet Kain Fuery and my grandfather and thank them appropriately._

________________________________________________________________________________________________________________  
_

"Okay. So, Kain's made contact with General Grumman, and Grumman wants to cooperate. And he said that he thinks your grandfather is trustworthy?" Mustang wanted to be sure he understood exactly what Fuery had said to Riza.

"Yes. He said that he didn't think that Grandfather would let him down," Riza replied.

Roy thought for a few seconds and then nodded. "Kain once told me that he was working on a voice analyzer that would be able to determine whether or not a speaker was lying. I think that he was telling you that he evaluated your grandfather's speech."

"I've never heard of such a thing!"

"When you meet Fuery, you'll understand. That big brain of his never stops working, even when he's asleep. He's dreamed some of his inventions! He is even working on plans to build a robot!"

"_Robot_? What's that?"

"It's an artificial- mechanical- person that will be able to do simple tasks like factory assembly line work. Fuery is shy, even timid, but once his mind is engaged, he knows no limits. You'll really like Kain. He's kind, and he always thinks the best of people. It's kind of ironic that most of his work involves people who do _not_ trust."

_Can I let myself believe that this will work? _

As if he could read Riza's mind, Roy spoke again. "We shouldn't get too excited about this. There is still an awful lot that could go wrong. However, we now have Plan A _and _Plan B. Our main priority has to be to get you to safety. However, we now may also have a line on proving your innocence.

"We still have to be very careful. We don't know what that Amestrian agent in Drachma- _Tammy?-_ has been up to. If she decided to pursue investigating you, she may have figured a lot of things out by now. I won't feel comfortable until you've made it to Aerugo. We still have three days until we get there," Roy cautioned.

Riza nodded. She decided that she would keep her gun tucked into the back of the waistband of her jeans. She didn't ever want to have to shoot any living thing, but maybe the unused gun would be enough of a threat if things fell apart.

* * *

Riza was wandering through _Discount Mart. _She had awakened with cramps and had realized that she was not prepared for that not-so-special time of the month. On her way from the personal products section to where she hoped to find a box of her favorite (not to mention _soothing_) herbal tea, she passed through the men's clothing department. A charcoal gray military-style jacket caught her eye. It was nipped in a little at the waist and had cool-looking epaulets. She put the basket that she was carrying down and fingered the fabric. It was of a pretty decent quality, and the jacket was well tailored. _This would look really cute on Roy! _It appeared to be his size… She laughed- the thought of Roy being in the military was pretty absurd, but she could just about picture him in this jacket.

Something snapped her back into reality. _Who do I think that he is? He's my _fake _boyfriend. No. Not even that! I'm his _fake_ groupie, and I have no money of my own. _She placed the jacket back onto the fixture, picked up her basket, and went looking for the tea.

* * *

Tammy smiled at the papers on her lap. Maya Ostrova, a Drachman citizen on a student visa, had crossed the border into Amestris at one of the western customs checkpoints. The smile disappeared as she pursed her lips. The only record on Maya Ostrova was the list of people who had crossed at the checkpoint and their immigration status. There was no record of destinations or contacts within the country. _I hope those customs jerks have saved a lot of money. Not recording contact and location information _has_ got to be a breach of procedure. If I can confirm that it is, I'm going to get those nincompoops canned. _Two losers were not going mess up her career.

But, perhaps there was still to be something to learn from the list. She stared at it:

Clayton Z. Tobias- Natural Born Citizen of Amestris

Vato Falman - Natural Born Citizen of Amestris

Jean Havoc- Natural Born Citizen of Amestris

Maya Ostrova- Citizen of Drachma under Student Visa

Roy Mustang- Natural Born Citizen of Amestris

Zachary T. Morian- Natural Born Citizen of Amestris

_My fake Maya Ostrova is tucked in among several Amestrian males. I think that it would behoove me to find out more about those guys. Who are they, and where are they? And do they a have a special friend with them? _

________________________________________________________________________________________________________________  
_

**A/N**- The word "robot" was coined in about 1920. Even though this story is AU and takes place in an undefined but more modern era than the real FMA, I thought that I'd throw in that shout out to the real FMA's time period.

Thank you so much for reading. I continue to beg you for reviews despite the fact that I am not worthy. Be happy and well.


	14. Chapter 14

**A/N**- When I told you that this chapter would be late, I didn't expect it to be this late! Things are still crazy. I'm not sure that I'm back on track. I'll try, though.

Danke, gracias, merci, arigato, and thanks to **Red Walrus**, **StarCatcher1858**, **Smash41KMF**, and **artFULLYoutuvit** for reviews. The same to **A Half-Empty Glass**,

**Sam King**, and **Ginevra1988** for subscribing or favoriting a story of mine.

There's an article about _FMA Brotherhood_ in the new _Otaku USA_. If you read it, you'll notice that they don't mention ssadropout at all. That's because Arakawa owns the beautiful brain that came up with FMA.

* * *

Despite her frenetic dancing during each concert, Riza knew that she was not getting enough exercise. In her old life, she had gone to the gym at least five days most weeks. Not wanting to complain to Roy about her lack of activity, she furtively slipped out of bed early one morning to take a brisk walk, or maybe even a run. Before leaving the room, she scribbled a note to her roommate and left it on the pillow next to him, because she didn't want him to worry about her. She paused to watch him, and his expression changed as she observed him sleep. _What could he be dreaming about? He looked irritated, then confused, and then pleased about something. That smirk! He smirks in his sleep! He's pleased with himself! I wonder what he thinks he did that was so wonderful. _She closed the door silently behind her with a grin. She'd tease him about it later. Maybe she'd even fabricate things that he said in his sleep.

Riza tried to remain alert as she ran. Roy believed that they had left a trail despite their caution, and Tammy could have figured things out. Each day, they got one day closer to Aerugo and safety, but she would not be completely safe until her innocence was proven or until she arrived in Aerugo.

Not much had yet happened with Fuery and her grandfather. General Grumman had already been scheduled for a meeting with Kimblee at Central tomorrow, and the four of them- Kain, her grandfather, Roy, and herself- had decided that trying to move up the already arranged meeting would breed suspicion. Kain had already practiced wiring her grandfather with a device that would record whatever Kimblee and any other occupants of the room would say. Her grandfather had worn it around East City Regional Headquarters without it triggering any of the security alarms.

As she ran, she thought about the telephone call where she, Roy, Kain, and Grandfather had all spoken _together_. It was another one of Kain Fuery's inventions; he called it a conference call. Roy had gone to the library and photocopied a newspaper picture of her grandfather, but it was when she heard his voice that she finally remembered him!

"My little Riza," he had said. "Your grandmother and I miss you so much. I'm so sorry, sweetie. We were so devastated when we lost your mother that we just didn't know how to deal with your father's sadness. He couldn't stand to see us after she died, but we were wrong. We should have pursued seeing you. We hope that you'll forgive us."

The sound of Grumman's voice had affected her with an unexpected ferocity, and recollections flooded her psyche in an overwhelming torrent. Hearing his voice let her see his face.

When she was young, so very young, she had thought that his voice was hysterically funny. His mustache had made her giggle, too. It had tickled when he had picked her up. She remembered tugging on his mustache, but he never complained. His pate was a ways to being bald even then, and she remembered kissing the shiny skin on his head. It came back to her that she had thought that he must be a clown from the circus. She had asked her mother if Grandpa was a clown, and Mamma had replied that Grandfather Grumman was an important officer in the army. _He must have been at least a captain back then._

It astonished her how she had had all of those memories in her brain but had not been able to access them until she heard his voice. She had felt a shiver when Grumman had first spoken, and after the conference call had ended, she had felt the need to be alone. Roy had sensed this, and he had left the room to hang out with Havoc and Falman.

After a while, she figured that she had jogged a couple of miles and felt that that was enough after having had several days of little activity. Arriving back at the hotel, she was surprised to find Roy waiting in the lobby.

"You know, the hotels all have exercise equipment," he smirked as he stood. "You could have been working out all along. Obviously, the running is good for you. You look all glowing. Are you hungry?"

She was horrified. _Glowing? Does he mean sweaty? Do I stink? I must stink. _

She must have made a face, because he looked panicked and said, "What? Did I say something wrong? You looked really happy until I spoke."

Riza laughed. "You didn't do anything. I am hungry, but I thought that I might small bad. Can you smell me?"

He sniffed near her neck. "You smell good, just like always." Then he stepped back suddenly, turned toward the dining room, and said, "Let's eat."

Tammy shook her head in amusement. Her Maya Ostrova had apparently entered Amestris with a rock band! _Who would have thought it?_ The investigation of the names immediately surrounding Ostrova's on the customs report revealed that three of the men were members of a band called _No More!_ She scoffed. _Stupid_. _The exclamation point is part of the name._ Two of the other men worked for the band in supportive positions. Further research had shown that the band's tour of Drachma had been scheduled for quite some time, and there had been a lot of publicity about them, so it didn't appear that they had traveled to Drachma in order to rescue Hawkeye Breda. However, what _was_ weird was that the band member named _Mustang_ had shown up on a list of low-level operatives. She had, therefore, requested a dossier on him. He was brand new and had been on his first mission. There was nothing to indicate that he and Hawkeye Breda had ever crossed paths before, but one couldn't be too careful. Also, the dossier showed that he was an engineer. A man like that would have the know how to have made the untraceable firecrackers. She looked at Mustang's photo, again. That shaggy black hair. Those piercing dark eyes. She had the nagging feeling that she had seen him before- and not just in the papers or on television. Tammy checked her copy of _No More!'s _touring schedule. They were working their way down the western side of the country and would arrive at the border in two days. Maya Ostrova was no fool, whoever she was. She was working her way towards Aerugo. Tammy knew what she had to do if she was going to prevent Maya Ostrova from escaping.

* * *

Zolf J. Kimblee cursed under his breath. This Breda thing had become much more annoying than he could have thought possible. The plan to hurt the diplomatic attaché by discrediting his wife had seemed simple and sweet at the time. But then, Breda had to go and die heroically, and his wife had managed to disappear. There were whispers of disbelief in her guilt, and it all was making Bradley look bad. Bradley was not a happy man when he looked bad. And if Bradley was not happy, Kimblee was not happy.

He was not looking forward to his meeting with General Grumman, either. Grumman was known for his idiosyncrasies; many thought him to be goofy and wondered how he had gotten so far up the ladder of power. Kimblee liked to think that he understood people and knew what made them tick. This skill allowed Kimblee control over most of his prey, as he thought of them. However, Grumman mystified him. Grumman's odd persona may or may not have been a put on, but Kimblee had serious doubts about the old man's incompetence. The general had proved himself over and over under very tough conditions. Kimblee felt that Grumman had the ability to see _both_ the forest and the trees, and though Grumman had always seemed to be a loyal officer, Kimblee did not trust anyone that he couldn't figure out. Still, the man had his uses, even if using him required some extra care. Maybe Grumman could help out with this Riza Hawkeye Breda mess.

* * *

They four of them were on another conference call. Grumman had just arrived in Central and had been thinking about how to broach the subject of Riza Breda's crimes against Amestris if Kimblee did not bring it up on his own.

"You might not think that you were a military issue, Granddaughter dear, but in Amestris, nearly anything annoying to Bradley can become a military issue. At this point in time, you are the proverbial thorn in Bradley's side. However, Bradley may have the power, but Kimblee has the brains. I have no doubt that you have been thrown into Kimblee's lap, pardon the revolting metaphor. Indeed, he was probably the genius who came up with the idea of punishing your poor husband by messing with you.

"So, if you are not one of the matters Kimblee wishes to discuss with me, I am going to bring you up by saying that I realize that your actions- thank goodness- must not have compromised anything major- _or the generals would have been informed_. Yes? Since our military personnel specialize in regional security, it would be helpful if the generals could be informed of what information, no matter how trivial, may have been handed over to other countries.

"If that doesn't get him to admit that there really was no leak, I will tell him that I have an idea for a way to lure you out into the open. So, what _would_ lure you out into the open?"

"If Heymans were still alive, I'd do anything to see him, but I have no other family- except for you, Grandfather. You don't want to reveal our connection, do you? Riza asked.

"Absolutely not!" Grumman replied.

"Then, I can't think of anyone that Kimblee or Bradley would know about whom I care enough about to come out of hiding."

"Then it can't be a person," remarked Roy. "It has to be a situation. You'd come out if there was proof that you were innocent."

"But she wouldn't believe it unless it came from us. She wouldn't believe a government allegation of proof of her innocence," piped Fuery.

"I can't think of anything that could draw me out!" Her voice expressed her frustration.

"I think that Tammy is on our trail, anyway," Roy inserted. "Whom would she report to? You'd have to beat her to the punch both information-wise and at getting to Riza."

"You have a good point, young man," Grumman stated. "I will subtly attempt to find out who she is and what she knows. I think that I'd better send a couple of men to help you out in case she- or anyone else- does catch up with you. And since none of us seems to be able to come up with a clever plan for ferreting Riza out, I will eliminate that tactic. "

Riza and Roy said their good-byes and hung up from the conference while Grumman and Fuery stayed on the lines and continued their planning.

"It'll work out!" Roy told her, but his expression did not match his words.

"I need to leave you," Riza replied. "If Tammy knows that I am with you, I'm easy to track, and all of you guys are in danger." She could tell that he was searching for an argument against what she had just said. "You know that I am correct about this!"

"I don't care about the danger..."

"You should! You have the right to decide for yourself but not for Vato and Jean and your roadies," she reprimanded him sharply. " This isn't your problem, anymore. You've done _everything_ for me. I'm not going to pay you guys back with any more trouble than I have already given you. I refuse to put you in a position where you could get hurt. This has gone far enough. I have Fuery's number, so he can get me in touch with Grandfather." She began to pack. _How have I accumulated so much stuff in such a short time? Stupid Mustang, buying me all this stuff. _

Roy was in turmoil. Maybe she was right about Havoc and Falman, but he, Roy, was determined to see this through. He wanted, no, _needed_ to be sure that she was safe.

"I'm coming with you." This sentence was said a little louder than his last one.

"Don't be an idiot! You. Are. Not. Coming. With. Me. You can't. You still have concerts." Not to be outdone, Riza demonstrated that she was capable of greater volume.

"We'll cancel them. Postpone them," Roy declared. He slapped the desk with his left hand for emphasis.

"And Tammy will know that something is up. She'll know that we're onto her." Her usually modulated voice rose in pitch.

"But she won't know where we are. If she is following us, she's following the band. When she discovers that you are no longer with _No More!_, they will be safe. I'll use a false name…" Mustang was slipping from his indoor voice to his outdoor one.

"Oh yeah? Do you have fake identification to show a hotel employee?"

"So we won't say in hotels! You couldn't stay in a hotel alone anyway. You can't book under Riza Breda or Maya Ostrova, can you? Can you?"

_He's right about that._ She kept her mouth shut as she shoved more items into her backpack.

"So, where _will_ you stay?" he asked, pressing his point.

"I'll find a place," she was defiant. "Better yet, I'll keep moving until I get to Aerugo. And I can move faster without you. "

"Oh. I'm a burden, am I? I'll follow you, anyway!"

"…"

"You already acknowledged that I have the right to put myself in danger. I'll call Fuery to tell him that we're leaving immediately. Then, I'll make an excuse to the guys. Then we'll leave."

"…"

"Then it's settled."

"…"

He smirked. She sighed.

* * *

"It's not good to change plans, umm, in mid-plan!" Fuery wailed. He liked to consider every angle of a situation, and he wasn't happy about this new bend in the path that he had studied.

"But it's not really a change, Kain. It's an improvement. If Tammy knows that Riza's with the band, Riza's and my going off alone makes it safer for the dudes _and_ for her. We can be more obscure by ourselves." Roy gave Fuery a minute to mull it over.

"I suppose that, as long as we can get in touch with each other…" Kain mused.

"That's right, Kain. That's the important thing," Roy soothed.

"I'll tell the general," Fuery relented. "We'll need to keep track of you so he can send the soldiers…"

* * *

They decided that Roy would use the money left over from the forger to buy an inexpensive used automobile. The transaction would be traceable, but their route would not be preordained like if they took a bus or train. Roy dragged Riza with him to the used car lot, fearing that she'd abscond if he let her out of his sight. They quickly found a suitable vehicle and purchased it. They returned to the hotel and picked up their bags.

The only thing that Roy could come up with as an excuse for canceling the concerts was that Madam Christmas was very ill. Havoc and Falman knew how important Roy's foster mother was to him, so they would understand and accept that as a valid reason for Roy to depart. But, he couldn't bring himself to lie to their faces, and he felt a crazy fear that if he said the words that she was sick, it would come true. So, he wrote them a note and gave it to the hotel's desk attendant with instructions to notify them of it in an hour.

Roy insisted on driving, and Riza had enough thoughts storming in her mind to let him have his way without argument. _I should not be letting him come with me. I should have just disappeared without telling him. But I knew what I was doing. I _knew_ that he wouldn't let me go alone. And I don't want to be alone. I want to be with _him. _Stupid. Stupid. Pathetic. _

As Roy drove, he glanced at the woman in the passenger seat. The road map was open on her lap, and her profile flickered between the dim illumination of the flashlight that she held and the harsher shine of the passing streetlights. His eyes went back to the road, missing the tear on her cheek.

* * *

**A/N**- Thanks, again, for reading. I hope that the chapter was satisfactory. Riza and Roy are off alone together and heading south toward … you'll have to read chapter 15 to find out! The end is drawing near. Please review! And take care.


	15. Chapter 15

**A/N-** Sorry it has been so long between updates. I hope that there are still a couple of folks interested in this tale! This chapter's formatting differs a little. You know how FF . net is...

Thank you to **Red Walrus, artFULLYoutuvit, **and** StarCatcher1858** for the chapter 14 reviews. You guys are great. Also thanks to **Sora Nadeshiko, emiopsfanfics, **and **SamuraiXSpade** for reviewing, favoriting, subscribing, etc. other stories. You guys are great, too! xD

I don't own FMA. It's more like it owns me.

Tammy didn't waste any time. There wasn't a second to lose. As soon as she figured out that Maya Ostrova- or Riza Hawkeye Breda, she was all but certain - was with the rock band, she acted on that information. With the band's schedule being a matter of public record, she knew where they were and where they were going to be. Before she and her team started south, she reported to her commander, who was himself under Kimblee's command. Just in case the unthinkable happened- that she didn't manage to apprehend her quarry en route- she wanted soldiers at the various border crossings and all potentially involved personnel on alert. No mistakes would be made under her watch. She couldn't depend on her commander or Kimblee to tolerate anything but perfection. Any flaws in her operation could lead to dire consequences.

In a fast car with alternating drivers, they should have no trouble beating the traitor- assuming that Ostrova was Hawkeye Breda- and the musicians to their next stop. Tammy wanted to nab this woman more than she had ever wanted anything. It wasn't just that a victory like this would make her career. There was just something about the woman that she _hated_, something that she intrinsically reacted to. Ostrova's cool, logical, and intelligent demeanor had seemed to reflect or project something on Tammy. _That woman had it all handed to her. Beauty, talent, and intelligence. An important husband, even if he looked like a pig and is now dead. Why the hell does she get it all on a silver platter, while I have to work for crumbs? _The fact that nothing had ever been easy for Riza Hawkeye would not have mattered to Tammy. Her envy was too deep and hard for truth or details to chip away at it.

Their black car sped into the night like an arrow flying towards its target.

"Oh, no!" Havoc moaned upon reading Roy's note. "You know how he is about Madam."

Falman nodded. "He's so grateful and devoted to her. He calls her every day."

"He must be totally freaked out. And the note says that Maya went with him. It does seem that he likes her, but, well, do you think that they are moving too quickly?" Havoc queried.

This time Falman shook his head, but not really answering Havoc's question negatively. "She seems nice, but he seems so intense around her. The relationship seems a little peculiar."

"Well, we'd better call Ed and Al to tell them that the concert at Heliotrope has to be canceled. They'll take care of things. Do you want to go back to Central to be there for Roy?"

"Yes, I think that we should," said Falman as emphatically as his quiet mien would allow.

"Man, I hope that Madam Christmas is okay. I think that our buddy needs her advice with this Maya thing, so she'd better get well!" Havoc murmured. It was almost a prayer.

(_The next morning…_)

Roy had driven through the dark until dawn. He had felt and was feeling painfully tense, but he had concentrated on the road, driving steadily at the speed limit, trying to be invisible, working at being nothing of interest to anyone. His eyes left the road only to check the mirrors or the woman asleep in the passenger's seat.

When the sun's first rays flitted upon her face, Riza blinked to awareness. Somehow she had managed to sleep throughout most of the night. She was slumped against the car door, so she automatically straightened herself into her typically erect posture. Turning her head, she studied Roy Mustang's profile and evicted from her consciousness some thoughts that were not related to survival. His dark eyes were narrowed and focused… and fatigued.

"Roy! I'm awake. Let me do some driving. Where are we?"

"Hey! Welcome back," he smiled. "We're about 100 miles past Heliotrope, which is where they will look for us if they have figured out that you were with the band and haven't figured out that you aren't anymore. There's food and fuel in about ten miles. Fuel is a necessity. Food is close to one. I could use a, um, I need to, um…"

"Me, too," Riza smiled. "Also a necessity."

Roy grinned. "Indeed. You can drive on the next leg of our journey, after we eat."

Not wanting to worry Roy, Riza did not mention that she hadn't driven since she'd left Amestris to be stationed in Drachma. The diplomatic corps and families were required to use Amestrian government chauffeurs Not having been behind the wheel for a couple of years would make her turn at the wheel a bit stressful, but she had been a good driver. _Hopefully muscle memory will bring it all back before Roy realizes how out of practice I am._

It didn't take long to travel the ten miles to the rest stop. "We'd better fill the tank before anything else," Roy suggested. "We might have to leave in a hurry," he told her with a meaningful look. Riza had been thinking pretty much the same thing.

"Just pull up to a gasoline pump and give me some money. I'll fill the tank." When Mustang appeared to be on the verge of a protest, she headed him off with a swift, "It'll be quicker."

"Yes, ma'am!" Roy said obediently- and saluted. _She can be kind of bossy, but I kind of like it! _

After taking care of the issues that Roy (who usually had a way with words) had not quite been able to express while driving the auto, they met at the entrance to the dining room. "We'd better each eat a hearty meal," Riza ordered. "We can't be certain when we'll be able to have another meal."

_Yup_ thought Mustang, once again taking a slightly perverse pleasure in Hawkeye Breda's strict manner. _We could get caught and not be given anything to eat or drink. And we shouldn't stop again until we get to Aerugo, anyway. _"Then maybe we should also get food and drink to take with us. Do you think that we should try to drive straight to Aerugo?"

"Both are good ideas, Roy." _It's about time that I got a hold of myself. Mustang thinks of me as a damsel in distress, and I am-at the moment. But I can usually take care of myself, and I need him to know that I can at least pull my weight decision making-wise. Gee. Why do I want this man's approval? _

"We need to call Fuery, too. Maybe he's heard from Grandfather," Riza spoke suddenly.

"How the hell could I forget that?" Roy spluttered. "The was the second thing that I should have done!"

"Don't beat yourself up about it. There's a lot going on, and one of us remembered," she soothed. _He can get a little emotional, but it's cute when he does._ _I am especially charmed by that apologetic look on his face._

They finished their meals in companionable silence, each glancing at the other and smiling every minute or so, and ordered their take-out when the waitress returned to top off their beverages.

Before they finished eating, Riza realized that they had gotten the time confused as Grumman's meeting with Kimblee had not yet been held. Roy thought that it would be a good idea to check in with Fuery anyway, so they called the little genius.

"Great. You've made good time so far," Kain yawned, causing a slight crackle on the other end of the line. They had obviously awakened the young man. "Forget it. No problem," he replied to their apologies. "Sometimes I just prefer to work at night, and it's good that I'll be able to tell the general that I heard from you when he calls. Try to get back to me around noon if you can stop at a phone. The meeting should be over by then."

Roy belted himself in and closed his weary eyes as Riza slid into the driver's seat. He hadn't looked in the mirror, figuring that it would depress him if his eyes looked as bad as they felt. A little vain about his looks, he fretted that this woman was seeing him not at his most attractive. _Not that it really matters. Like she even notices me as a man._

The subject of Roy's musings took a few seconds to acclimate herself. _Ignition. Accelerator. Break. Clutch. Gearshift. I'd cross my fingers if I didn't need them to drive. _After pressing the gas pedal, she turned the key in the ignition, put her right foot on the brake, and released the emergency brake. _Okay. _She pressed the clutch, shifted into first, and accelerated. The shift into second was a tad rough, but Roy didn't seem to react. The shift into third gear was much smoother. Riza shifted into fourth, pulled off of the ramp onto the highway, and shifted into overdrive perfectly. _South_.

Kimblee licked his lips as he hung up the phone with a little more force than was necessary. He was pissed as hell at his subordinate for not calling him until now, when he should have called last night. _I work with idiots. Hell, most people are idiots, anyway, so why should I expect anything different from my staff? My lovely black hair will not last if I continue to have to suffer such fools. Will it fall out or go white? _But he _was_ pleased that the _bitch_ would soon be apprehended, and things would fall back into place once she was in his custody. He'd take care of his subordinate once all loose ends were tied up. And, truthfully, sometimes he really enjoyed it when his inferiors screwed up. He licked his lips again, this time in anticipation of the 'necessity' of having to take punitive measures. But for now, he had to focus and deal with the nutty old general in his waiting room. He opened the door to the waiting room and gestured the general in.

Grumman was disappointed to see that it was just Kimblee and himself. _The more the merrier, and the more chances for loose lips. _As old as he was, though, his mind was still quick and sharp. He played chess whenever he could find an adversary, and he did all of the puzzles in the newspapers. _But then again, perhaps Kimblee will speak more freely with no witnesses…_

Kimblee sat behind his desk and put his feet up. Even the bottoms of his shoes were white and immaculate. "Have a seat, General," he invited, in a tone that had intimidated many. "Thank you for making the trip to Central." _As if the old codger had a choice_.

Grumman nodded once. _How does that man keep the bottoms of his shoes so pristine?_ _I wonder if he wears the white suit to be ironic._ _I should have worn dark glasses to prevent blindness. _He waited. He would let Kimblee make the first move.

Most people started babbling when Kimblee remained silent for any length of time. He waited several seconds but decided that Grumman wasn't going to fill the empty space. _Could Grumman possibly be trying to use my own tactics against me? _Kimblee didn't know whether he was pleased or pissed at the thought. He paused a few more seconds for effect and then began to speak.

"I'm meeting with the regional generals individually," he began. _But you probably knew that._ "It's a sort of evaluation as well as a briefing. I'll begin with your assessment.

"Things seem to be going smoothly in the East despite it being a frequent flash point …"

_Blah, blah, blah. Yadda, yadda, yadda._Grumman listened to Kimblee drone on with the nonsense, paying enough attention to be able to respond but using most of his brainpower to consider ways of getting the pony-tailed dandy to help his little Riza. The general had heard from Fuery about Riza and young Mustang heading out on their own. _It could be a good idea. It didn't seem like that Mustang kid was much of a fighter, but it did appear that he was clever and could think on his feet. Well, as long as they can keep Fuery, and therefore me, informed of their whereabouts, it's okay, I guess._ He had sent two of his men south to rendezvous with Riza. It was difficult to anticipate how this was going to play out, but he had ordered them to use force only if necessary.

"So, I have decided to entrust you with a very delicate project," Kimblee continued. Grumman immediately focused his full attention on the man in white.

"It does not directly involve the Eastern Sector, but you have the delicate touch and the creative thinking that we need for this mission."

"Of course, I am ready to serve Amestris in any way," Grumman said as he inclined his head, still letting Kimblee make the moves.

"Yes, yes. We all live to serve Amestris!"

_Was that a tinge of irritation in Kimblee's voice? _

"Grumman, how much do you know about the Breda situation?"

_Aha! _The general paused before answering, but he decided to reply a little more loquaciously than he had so far. "Well, Mr. Kimblee, I am glad that you are asking about that. The situation has been on my mind. I do not know anything other than what has been in the news. Since the generals are usually informed of any significant security breaches, I have been wondering if anything of import is believed to have been leaked by the young woman. Also, I was very curious what manner of evidence indicates that Mrs. Breda has sold state secrets."

Zolf Kimblee was a bit surprised by Grumman's response. He had expected to have his question replied to more evasively. He also realized that it would take an extremely good lie to fool Grumman. Ergo, Kimblee had decided that Grumman would be told the truth- or at least some of it.

"You are absolutely correct, General, that you would have been advised of any proven or even suspected specific leaks. We now believe that Mrs. Breda was not in possession of any information that could cause harm to our country. The people involved may have overreacted a bit. We now believe that poor Mr. Breda may have made some enemies due to a couple of critical policy papers he wrote."

_Well, hell, that's wicked true! And we both know who those enemies are- you and your Cyclops of a boss!_ Now, Grumman was the one who was surprised- and wary. This was too much honesty from Kimblee. Could the man possibly know of his connection to Riza? Could he be using Grumman to smoke Riza out? Grumman kept his mouth shut, gazing directly at Kimblee in an inquiring manner.

"Now, I'm not saying that the woman was innocent. Just that she has not managed to do any real harm. We still believe that she has malicious intent," Kimblee elaborated.

Grumman breathed a silent sigh of relief. Whatever Kimblee's angle was, it wasn't based on any knowledge of Riza being his granddaughter. "Why do you think she would try to harm Amestris? I haven't studied her past, but neither have I heard of any evidence that shows she was involved with the radical element. It does not appear to be her husband's influence. Mr. Breda's writings were critical but certainly not subversive," Grumman reasoned. "I ask only because I feel the need to comprehend people's motivations in cases like this."

Kimblee shook his head. "Who knows how people's psyches become corrupted?"

_You, who are the_ _essence of vice should know!_ _You, who uses your position to accrue vast wealth and to exercise your perverted cruelty!_ thought the general. Once again he used the tactic of silence.

_I sure would like it better if this guy were afraid of me. People are so much easier to deal with when they shiver in their shoes at the sight of me. _"Her motivations are of little interest to me. I don't have time for petty games of intellect, and this is no ivory tower. What is of importance is that that woman is still on the loose, and she has either made some allies or duped some unsuspecting people into helping her. If she escapes to Aerugo, she will be immune to extradition, and she may have more vital secrets to sell. We must prevent her from leaving Amestris," Kimblee snarled.

By this time, Grumman was dead sure that he'd be getting nothing very helpful from Kimblee, but the man-in-white's words, both spoken and avoided, told him a lot. There was no evidence against Riza- just a conspiracy. And said conspiracy had been fabricated by whom Grumman had been known (by a very select few) to call _The Twisted Twins at the Top_. Breda's essays, which would have annoyed any leader of a country, had totally enraged the psychotic Bradley and Kimblee. They had been thwarted from carrying out some sadistic punishment on Breda when he died, and these vicious men were going to make Riza suffer for it. "So what would you have me do, Mr. Kimblee?"

"Well, General, I have already sent orders to South. They will be cordoning off as much of the border as possible, as well as attempting to locate the fugitive before she gets that far. We have intel that she will be stopping in Heliotrope before heading to the border, but we can't be confident. We'd like to keep this as low key and discreet as possible. Since you are known for having, umm, unusual approaches to problems, I was wondering if you had thoughts on the matter."

_Hmm. They figured out that she was with the band but don't know that she has split from them. _"Is there a dossier on the matter? asked Grumman. "I think better when I am alone and have as much information as possible at my disposal."

"This is my only copy," Kimblee droned, stroking a manila folder, "but you can take it into Conference Room C, which is not in use. Get it back to me by 1100 Zulu. Go." Tired of dealing with Grumman, he pushed the folder toward the general and waved him away. Grumman grabbed the folder with his left hand, saluted with his right, and exited Kimblee's office.

Riza's grandfather poured himself a cup of coffee from the urn that was kept across from the conference rooms and was dependably full of fresh-brewed Cretan blend. He settled himself and the file at the huge mahogany table in Conference Room C. The documents had been hole-punched and prong-filed into the folder with the oldest sheet at the bottom and with each more recent sheet filed on top. Grumman unbent the prongs and carefully removed each sheet, examining each manuscript as he spread the contents of the file out before him. _Useless. Worthless. Bull poop. Fiction. Whatever. _

Grumman had assumed that the top sheet (which he had examined first) had been the most recent addition to the folder. It should have been. However, about ten pages down, a not-yet-punched document was stuffed in. This very day's date was at the top of the sheet, and handwritten in Kimblee's oddly ornate penmanship was his documentation of his conversation with Tammy's commander.

_Oh, no. Oh, DAMN! They are being pursued!_

**A/N- **Wasn't Chapter 107 wonderful? I had been hoping that Roy would get himself together and ask Riza to help- well, you know what happened, or you don't. I don't want to spoil anybody.

Please review, if you feel like it. I love good reviews, but I also am grateful for criticism. Thank you so much. Take care.


	16. Chapter 16

**A/N-** Thank you very much to my reviewers: **StarCatcher1858**, **artFULLYoutuvit**, and **Red Walrus**. Thanks also to **Romani-chan** for the story alert and to **TheSoulAlchemist **for favoriting 'Papa's Little AllStar.' There are only a few things that I like more than reviews!

In this story, I refer to the major highways as _Amestrian Routes_ or _A.R.s_ for short.

I've tried something new to separate story sections. I hope it works!

Since we are nearing the end of the story, I am making an effort to include a little more RoyAi. xD Hope you like it! Remember, though, it will be subtle. They have only known each other a short time, and Riza is a recent widow. It wouldn't be right to have them mix it up too quickly.

FMA was born of the brilliant brain of Hiromu Arakawa, and I thank her for allowing me to play with her characters.

Dawn had not yet lit the Amestrian sky when Tammy's group arrived in Heliotrope. She had learned that _No More! _had made reservations at the _Hotel_ _Heliotrope South_, and the concert was to be at _Armstrong Hall_, a theater built by the illustrious and powerful Armstrong family, famous patrons of the arts for generations. Team Tammy proceeded directly to the concert hall where one of her men, a safe cracker recruited by Kimblee, used his illicit skills to unlock a door for them. After they entered the theater and he relocked the door, thereby concealing their entry, Tammy distributed communication earpieces and directed her team members to their stations. She and her electronics expert located the management office and planted a bug. Tammy put the bug receiver in her left ear and the communications earpiece in her right. They did a sound check and advanced to their posts.

The theater employees began arriving a little before nine, ignorant of the agents hidden around them. It was barely 9:15 when the manager's phone rang.

"What the hell, Elric? What do you mean _No More! _won't be showing up tonight? They'd better show up or I'll see that they never…" The manager paused and listened to the voice on the other end of the line.

"Oh. That's different. I'm sorry about Mustang's mother. I understand, Edward."

Apparently Edward offered an acceptable solution to the problem, because the manager sounded more relaxed when he spoke again. "Yes. That'll do. We'll rebook _No More!_ when things get back to normal. If the fans cannot attend on the new date, you will give them full refunds. And _The Maes Hughes Experience_ will give a free concert tonight with your company covering the expenses. Please give my best wishes to Mustang and his mother. Goodbye," the manager sighed. _Never a dull moment!_

Tammy thought that she might have a stroke. If the band wouldn't be here, Hawkeye Breda sure as hell wouldn't. She had to get her team out of there without being detected. She then would have to verify that effing Mustang's effing mother was sick _and_ find out if the Breda bitch was still with anyone in the band or back on her own. _This is a disaster. _

While theater workers passing by team members wouldn't hear transmissions through the earpieces, they could possibly hear one of the team speaking. She waited for nearby footsteps to fade before she contacted the other agents to give them egress instructions. Their rendezvous point was a coffee shop down the street.

Grumman handed the file back to Kimblee's secretary and abruptly left Headquarters without giving Kimblee any 'creative solutions' to the Riza Hawkeye Breda 'problem.' He dropped some cenz into the coin slot of a payphone, keeping an eye on his surroundings and making sure that no one was listening in. Fuery would take care of the rest from his end. Kain answered on the second ring. As Fuery's friends always did when calling from a strange telephone, Grumman began speaking as soon as he heard Fuery pick up.

"Tammy, the female agent that Riza had described, is trying to follow her. It looks like she's gone to Heliotrope, but it shouldn't take her too long to figure out that Riza's not there. Southern Command has stationed soldiers along the border in an attempt to monitor who crosses. The case against Riza is totally manufactured, and Bradley and Kimblee messed up big time by not advising us generals of the so-called 'breach.' Now they are trying to cover their butts. Kimblee had to admit that nothing important had been leaked, but he still wants to hurt my granddaughter."

"Oh," moaned Fuery. "I was hoping against hope that it wasn't them and that you could get Kimblee to help. Well, I did hear from Roy and Riza, anyway. They were south of Heliotrope at a rest stop. They'll try to get back to me around noon, so I'll tell them what happened with Kimblee."

"The best thing for them to do is to continue south," Grumman opined. "I'm thinking that they should try to cross the border at Viridian. Tell them that. When my men check in, I'll arrange for them to meet our fugitives and create some kind of distraction or diversion so that Riza can cross into Aerugo."

"What if they can't contact me?"

Grumman paused to think. "I'll check in with you at 1:00. Let's both try to come up with alternatives in case you don't hear from them."

"Yes, sir."

They disconnected. There was something that Grumman hadn't mentioned to Fuery. _It's no help at the moment_, he thought, _but it may prove to be valuable in the future._

Tammy was furious. Mustang's mother- well, his birth mother was dead and had been for a long time. His foster mother, was in perfect health and running her bar and brothel, of all things. The agent had also determined that Falman and Havoc and their support crew had traveled north upon leaving their hotel this morning. Neither Hawkeye Breda nor Mustang had been seen with them. _Pretty Boy must be hanging out with Mrs. Breda, and he must know something about what's going on with her. He has told one whopper of a big fat lie. _

She turned to her men. "It's likely that the woman we know as Maya Ostrova is heading south to Aerugo with a man named Roy Mustang. This is what he looks like," she advised as she handed each team member a photo. "We don't know exactly when the two fugitives separated from the band, but they did not check out of the hotel themselves, and the bed in their room did not appear to have been slept in. Command has sent local agents to investigate if they have used any rest stops along the most likely routes and will…" Her watch signal went off, signifying that her superior wanted to speak with her, so she found a pay phone and called in. After a few minutes, she returned to her team.

"The fugitives were sighted at the rest stop ten miles south of here along Amestrian Route Eight. This was a little after dawn. We don't know how long they stayed there, but they obviously have a head start on us. We, however, have a description of their vehicle. We also have a faster automobile and permission to exceed the speed limit. Command stated that traffic has been rather heavy on A.R. Eight, but A.R. Nine is clear, so we'll take that and then switch over. We leave NOW!"

Tammy had already begun to walk briskly to their car, and her men worked to keep up. She continued to brief them as they moved. "Command is considering a roadblock and trying to determine the best place to set it up. The border is well guarded in case the targets get that far. Force may be used to apprehend both fugitives. It is preferable to bring them in alive, but it isn't mandatory."

Since she wasn't required to shift gears while driving on the highway, Riza's leg of the journey was as smooth as could be, once she got going. It was 11:30 by the time Mustang woke to full alertness. He stretched his arms and legs and yawned so widely that he thought his face might split. Aware of her passenger's activities, Riza smiled and glanced over. Mustang's hair was messier than ever, and she resisted an impulse to brush the errant locks out of his eyes. Instead, she updated him on their progress.

"Heavy traffic has slowed us down some, but we have been making steady progress," she advised. He realized that he didn't feel that the car was moving at highway speed, and he immediately focused on the road ahead. Traffic was flowing steadily, but not at the velocity one might expect on an A. R.

"It's about five miles to the rest stop. I'm afraid that a lot of cars might get off due to the heavy traffic, but I think we'd better talk to Kain," she continued.

He felt a touch of dread swirling in the pit of his gut, but he hid it and told her that he agreed. _I wish that I had some type of superpower. I'd fly her away, our hair blowing in the updraft, or I'd snap my fingers and hurl a wall of flames between her and her enemies. _

As he ran his fingers through his hair, actually making it worse, his dreamy fantasy was eradicated by anger. There had long been whispers that Bradley and Kimblee were corrupt and murmurs that they were amoral and ruthless. The allegations had never been substantiated by evidence, nor had there been any witnesses who had testified as to the government's misdeeds. Anonymous friends of acquaintances of people who had supposedly been injured by the hard men in power were the ones who covertly made the claims. Roy had long been aware of the culture of fear promulgated by Bradley's regime, but he had never thought about how it affected _people_. It was one thing to award government business contracts to cronies, but it was another thing to relentlessly hunt a woman because her deceased husband had validly criticized government policies. He now totally believed all of the apocryphal horror stories he had heard.

It made Roy feel useless. He, who professed to want to help people, played bass in a rock band. _A lot of good that does_, he thought, even though he did believe in the redemptive and healing power of music. He feared that all of Riza's and his efforts to get to Aerugo were probably in vain. In fact, the traffic seemed to be getting worse.

Riza's voice drew him from his reflections. "Do you have a favorite station, Roy? Which stations play your songs?" She started singing the lyrics to _Pop Quiz_, one of the band's popular encores.

He laughed. The angry words of the song seemed so incongruous coming from her lovely mouth in a pleasing light alto voice. She was serious and stern, but not angry despite all that she had been through. He resolved that he would not give up on trying to rescue her.

Her hand had been hovering near the radio knob, and he gently took it and replaced it on the steering wheel. "Maybe we should listen to the news for now," he said, unwrapping a package of cookies they had bought, breaking one in half, and slipping the morsel into her mouth. She glanced at him, startled. There was a question in her warm eyes that she couldn't pose with her busy mouth.

"No, I'm not trying to shut you up," he laughed. "I just wanted to share a sweet. You are more than welcome to sing or talk to me any time at all. Want more?"

Riza nodded enthusiastically.

Falman, Havoc, and the guys had decided to take the band bus and go back to Central. They had discussed it with Edward and Alphonse Elric, who were both their managers and booking agents, and all had opted to cancel the final concert of the tour as well as the one in Heliotrope. No one knew when (or if) Madam Christmas would feel better, and it was only courteous to give the fans as much notice as possible.

After traveling a couple hundred miles north, they pulled off of the highway at a rest stop. Falman suggested that they call Madam's establishment and get updated by the 'girls.' Madam's girls would probably even be able to give them a status on Roy's frame of mind. They were very protective of him, the only male in their extended family. Vato and Jean found a pay phone. Vato stood by while Jean dialed.

"Uh. Madam? I didn't expect you to answer the phone. You're feeling better?" Havoc asked while giving Falman a shocked look. He held the phone so that the older man could hear Roy's mother, too.

"So, nothing is wrong with you? We're really glad to hear that." Havoc paused to let Madam speak again. She naturally wanted to know why he had thought she was ill. Jean panicked. He definitely did not want to tell Madam that Roy had lied about her health and then disappeared. They had to figure out what the hell Roy was up to with Maya first. And now Madam was asking where was Roy…

Not able to both process the new revelations and come up with a good lie, Havoc made some crackling noises and said, "Oh, Madam, the connection is fading. I can't hear you. Bye."

Mustang's band mates stared at each other. "If he and Maya wanted to secretly get married, they could have done it in Heliotrope and just not told us," Vato mused. "So, it's probably not that." Havoc had to agree.

The hostess showed the two to a table where their roadies, Clay and Zach, were already seated. They were still reviewing the menu selections when Clay made an odd noise, something between a gasp and a groan. When the rest of the group looked at him, he just pointed.

They followed the trajectory of his finger to a television bolted high on the wall. The sound was off, but the picture spoke a thousand words. The word _WANTED _appeared at the top of the screen, and below it were two faces that they recognized with dread. The information at the bottom of the screen alleged that _Maya_ _Ostrova_ was an alias. The situation with Roy was apparently much worse than they could have imagined.

Roy had fed Riza a few more cookies, and now he was holding a carton so that she could sip some juice as she drove.

"Okay," she said, as soon as she swallowed, "you've only got two more questions. Ask away."

"Hmm. Is it in this car right now?"

"Hmm," she imitated him, drawing a laugh. "I actually don't know. You still have two more questions."

"Was it in our hotel rooms?"

"The answer to question number nineteen is _yes_!" she replied.

He shook his head, unable to come up with a question, let alone a decent guess. He reviewed what he knew. "It's mineral and smaller than a box of cigarettes. I use one, but you don't, though a woman can use it. It was in our hotel room and may or may not be in the car now. Do I have more than one?"

"Probably, but I don't know for certain. Guess now!" she crowed, positive that he had no idea.

"I have no idea," he lamented.

"It's your guitar pick. Hah! Now it's my turn to guess."

"Okay. I'm ready," he told her.

"Is it animal, vegetable, or mineral?"

They were approaching the next rest stop, so Riza pulled over into the exit lane along with what seemed like half of the automobiles in Amestris. Her downshifting was flawless. Roy gave her a thumbs-up before turning the radio back on to catch up with the news before calling Fuery.

_Breaking news. This just in: Fugitive Riza Hawkeye Breda, wanted for crimes against the nation of Amestris, is believed to be attempting to flee Amestris for Aerugo. She is armed and dangerous and thought to be accompanied a man called Roy Mustang. Hawkeye Breda has altered her appearance and now has short red hair. Mustang is in his early twenties and has black hair and Xingese features. If you sight these people, contact…_

Riza moaned and jerked the wheel to pull back onto the highway. In her nervousness, she messed up the shifting and stalled. Recovering quickly, she restarted the car and pulled back onto A. R. Eight, instigating a chorus of blaring horns.

"Oh, no. Did I do the right thing? Should I have continued to exit? What do you think, Roy?"

He shook his head. "They must have agents at all of the rest stops by now, so we may as well stay on the highway. It's really bad that we can't talk to Kain, but we can't really take the chance of stopping. I just hope that they don't have a road block set up."

"I should pull over and let you out."

Roy gently squeezed her shoulder. "Riza, I feel that trying to help you is the best thing that I've done in my life. They are going to take me in either way. I'd much rather be with you when it happens," he declared.

"It's selfish, but I really want you to be with me, too."

Having made excellent time, Tammy and her team arrived at the appointed site on Amestrian Route Eight as the barricades were being assembled. Wooden horses blocked all lanes except for the center one, and ostentatiously armed soldiers loomed aggressively across the highway and on both sides of the center lane opening. Her vehicle was parked south of the barriers, ready to zoom off in a flash if need be. The agents were confident that the culprits were still on the highway and north of the blockade.

The people in the cars that were now stalled north of the barriers refrained from displaying their displeasure with the situation. Many of them had heard the news reports and suspected that the delay was related. _Every _one of them knew how inadvisable it was to show any hint of displeasure with government or military activity. Some of them even understood that that was what had put Mrs. Breda in her predicament.

Not long after they had decided to remain on the A.R., Roy and Riza had pulled over onto the shoulder and switched places, since Roy was feeling fresher than Riza by now. With nerves more taut than guitar strings, they abandoned their game playing and rode in silence punctuated only by discussion of strategy. The bright orange cones set up at intervals were not unexpected, but they were still disheartening. Soldiers directing traffic were clearly trying to funnel the drivers into a single file. Interspersed with the military were signs that warned the car occupants to have official identification ready. Riza and Roy were surrounded by cars, barriers, and soldiers, and no highway exit was nearby. With only about six miles between them and Aerugo, they had decided what they were going to do.

The line was moving steadily. Roy could now see the cars beyond the roadblock fan out and accelerate. Three cars were ahead of then, and then two. Riza took his hand, and pulled it to her lips, but he didn't have time to enjoy the kiss. Too soon, his hand was back on the wheel, and the moment that he drove up to the opening and saw that no person was in directly in front of his car, he smashed his foot down on the gas and surged forward toward a likely unattainable asylum.

**A/N-** Thank you so very much for reading. I hope that you all stay well, and are happy. Please do review if you're in the mood. (It would improve _my_ mood!)


	17. Chapter 17

**A/N-** There is actually a very good chance that **we will know all** before I finish this story. (I am really afraid of what Arakawa has in store for us in chapter 108!) The way I see it now, chapter 18 will be the end of this tale. It may be a little late, but I will try not to be too derelict. This is a very short chapter, but I hope that you agree that I ended it at the right point.

It's THANK YOU time! My wonderful reviewers were: **artFULLYoutuvit**, **Red Walrus**, **Kari Nago**, **theflamefangirl**, and **StarCatcher1858.** Plus, **Kari Nago** gets super special thanks for subscribing and favoriting.

You know that 'Arakawa' whom I mentioned above? Well, she's the real FMA gal.

(XXXXXXXX)

As the car shot forward, Roy heard Riza's ragged intake of breath and knew what it was, because he, too, had forgotten to breathe. He drew air deeply into his lungs and hoped that a nice, normal rhythm of inhales and exhales would retard and regulate his out-of-control heart. When Riza patted his knee and then left her hand resting on it, it didn't exactly calm him down, but it did make him feel better. If he hadn't been so anxious about the driving that his hands felt glued to the wheel- and if their lives didn't depend on him using his absolutely sharpest driving skills, he could have covered her hand in his, and …

_I need to be Zen. Just the road, the car, and me. _

The car was performing surprisingly well, under the circumstances. He hadn't been sure that it would be able to reach or maintain the speeds that he needed, but they had been lucky in this area. The Appaloosa was a honey of an automobile. The vehicle even sounded good. The engine was humming with a steady pulse, and the car's motion was stable and smooth. _The car is doing better than we are._

The roadblock had limited the traffic to its south, so Roy was having a fairly easy time passing the widely dispersed slower vehicles. He wondered if whoever pursued them would use sirens or sneak up on them more stealthily. Before the break away, they had decided that he would devote all of his mental powers on the driving. He'd just go as far as he could as quickly as he could, and she'd be in charge of figuring out exactly where they were, how close to Aerugo they were. When they got close, she'd navigate them across the border. So, he just _drove_.

(XXXXXXXXX)

_Bzzt. Ssss. Wwwm._ Snippets of sounds faded in and out as Fuery fussed with the dial of his newest gadget. It was a radio, but he had retrofitted it to pick up frequencies that an off-the-shelf radio could not receive- police and military band frequencies. When he had thought it up, it had been on a lark. He had not expected it to become so essential. The lives of his friends' might now depend on it.

_fffz …the fugitives have forced their way through the barricade and are traveling south on A. R. Eight…hhsss… believed to be the … crackkkle … federal and military agents are in pursuit of…_

"Damn it!" yelled Fuery, who rarely used foul language. At least General Grumman would be calling any minute. Kain would have to tell him that Roy and Riza had not checked in and that it appeared that they had decided to make a run for it. _Of course, the general will have been watching the television. The TV reports will be missing a lot of what I can glean from the radio transmissions, but he already must already know that the situation has taken a nosedive. At least I can tell the general that it sounds like they made it through the roadblock. Maybe he'll know what to do. I hope!_

(XXXXXXXX)

The effect of Roy's running the barricade was instant and unexpected by the guards. The collective consciousness of the motorists urged them to defy. They realized that they could actually disobey the stifling authorities and get away with it. The automobile that had been following Roy and Riza's aped its actions, and the car behind that followed suit. The soldiers scattered, afraid for their lives, and cars pulled out of line and ran down the wooden horses. It was akin to a dam bursting as the traffic flooded the previously empty road. Vehicle after vehicle sped away.

None of the soldiers or of Tammy's group had gotten a good look at the occupants of the lead car that had sped off, and Tammy froze indecisively for a few seconds. She wanted to be there when Breda and Mustang were caught. She _had_ to be there. If that was Breda and Mustang in that car… Her team waited for her orders. She thought that maybe she had seen a flash of black hair in the driver's seat and red hair in the passenger's, but she hadn't had a chance to see their faces. Her agents had never learned the make of the car that those jerks were driving, but her gut told her that the black Appaloosa was the one.

"We follow them," she growled.

But it didn't go well. Tammy couldn't believe her crappy luck. (What else could go wrong? She hoped that she wouldn't find out!) Her car had been positioned for a quick get-away, and the pursuit of Breda and Mustang (she hoped that they were the ones she was following) should have been easy. Then those damn effing unruly drivers had actually gone berserk and smashed through the barriers, clogging the highway ahead. By the time that she and her men had gotten into the car and had it moving, dozens of vehicles had formed a maze between her and the escapees.

The Appaloosa had shot ahead like a rocket, and, being the first unregulated car out it had very little traffic to dodge. Tammy's driver was having a difficult time weaving around the civilian drivers who seemed to be set on making up the time that they had lost behind the blockade. She was sure that the distance between her and her objectives was increasing with each second, and she yelled at the driver, directly into his ear.

"Please Ma'am," the driver begged. "I'm doing the best that I can. People are driving real crazy. I don't want to hit anyone."

She wanted to yell at him some more. She wanted to hit him. But she knew that she was in the wrong, so she arranged her lips into a thin line and sat sullenly. She didn't think that she would have been able to control herself at all if she and Southern Command didn't already have the border pretty well covered.

She had really wanted to impress Kimblee with this assignment. He was one of the most powerful men in Amestris. Some thought that Kimblee actually controlled Bradley or at least influenced him greatly. If Kimblee would like her work, she would have it made. The universe seemed to have something against her.

She kept her mouth shut, but she turned and glared at the driver. If he knew what was good for him, he better try harder to move faster.

Then, she just couldn't help herself. She reached across the driver and leaned into the horn.

(XXXXXXXXX)

Grumman's men were waiting for further instructions at a pay phone in Sinopia, a town located about half way between Viridian, Grumman's crossing of choice, and Amaranth, the crossing closest to Amestrian Route Eight. The general had hoped that Riza and Roy could be directed to Viridian, where there were areas of the border that were less guarded than most. But, Grumman and Fuery had planned for complications. They had decided to hedge their bets and place Grumman's men centrally. When Fuery told the Grumman that Riza and Roy had not called in, the officer was glad that he had placed his men so strategically.

Shortly after one o'clock the phone rang, and the taller soldier answered. "Sergeant Silver speaking."

Silver was silent except for the intermittent "Yes, Sir!" for the next minute or so. After a final "Yes, Sir!" he hung up the phone.

"They didn't call in. General Grumman thinks that they are on A. R. Eight in a ten-year-old black Appaloosa. They weren't told to go to Viridian, so he thinks they'll try Amaranth. The general thinks that they are being pursued, so we have to be really fast and careful. Let's go!"

(XXXXXXXX)

They were so close. There was less than a mile between them and safety. Roy didn't really know that yet. He was too busy concentrating on the rapidly increasing traffic, but a small corner of his brain realized that the roadblock must be over. Riza's sharp eyes could make out the large green sign hanging ahead, and she squeezed Roy's knee as she directed him towards the exit lane. She had just used an old newspaper and lipstick to make three signs. It had been Roy's idea that, in case they had to speed through the customs checkpoint into Aerugo, the guards would be able to see why, and hopefully at least the Aerugan guards would refrain from shooting them to death. Riza had clearly block-printed _REQUESTING POLITICAL ASYLUM_ on three sheets of newsprint, and she had used pieces of chewed gum (also Roy's idea) to attach the signs to the rear window, the passenger's side window, and the passenger's side of the front window. She had also covertly pulled her pistol out of her handbag. That was _her_ idea.

Studying the map, she directed him to bear left at the first fork. "The checkpoint looks to be about three blocks down once we get on the street." She twisted in her seat to look out through the unblocked portion of the rear window. "All is clear in the rear!" she declared. The rhyme caused Roy to snicker a little, and Riza (when she got it) replied, "I'm a poet and didn't know it." Roy, still speeding, took the fork to the left a little too quickly and skidded slightly, so he decelerated some more. They were now off of the highway after all. Still concentrating with all that he had, he espied the cross street ahead. That street would lead them to the border crossing. "I see it!" he told Riza, smiling for the first time since he had run the roadblock. But Riza had seen something, too.

Quickly closing in behind them was a car, also going much faster than it should. The distance between the two cars seemed to contract as Riza watched. And then it was close enough for her to recognize a woman's angry face.

"Oh, shit, Roy!"

(XXXXXXXXX)

**A/N- **I know that it was a choppy chapter, but it was mostly a set up for what happens next. So, see you soon with the climax. Also, probably on the evening of the 10th, I will post my Royai Day story. Thanks for reading this one, and you know that I will appreciate any reviews. Take care. Dropout out!


	18. Chapter 18

**A/N-** Here it is: the finale of _Roy, Riza, Rock and Roll_.

Chapter 17 was pretty lame (sorry, it was just a set up for this chapter), but two of my faithful critics reviewed it anyway. Thank you so much, **StarCatcher1858** and **Red Walrus**. Warning: this chapter has quite a bit of foul language. Also, I am assuming that Aerugan is roughly identical to Spanish.

And, guess what, the formatting is not going well.

I'll bet that every single one of you knows that I did not create Fullmetal Alchemist.

xxxx

"Oh, shit, Roy!" Riza yelled as she looked through the unblocked portion of the car's rear window and sighted Tammy's angry face in the auto closing in on them. "It's her, Roy. They've got us."

"They don't have us, yet." Roy muttered, glancing over. _But they will in a few minutes_, he admitted to himself_. _"Turn around, and tighten your seat belt. If we… if there is an impact, you are safer facing forward and sitting back in the seat. It's simple physics." It sounded a lot like an order, and she quickly complied- a very good thing indeed, because-

-they were both jolted by the shock of the trailing vehicle's impact. Had Riza been turned around, she would have, no doubt, been injured.

"Holy shit. They mean business," Roy swore, "and I'll bet their damn car is reinforced or armored. They can hit us without sustaining much damage themselves! Crap."

_He's probably right_, she thought. _Our diplomatic vehicles were armored._ _But maybe I can shoot their tires. _She began to twist in her seat again.

"Stop! Don't!" he yelled, and she turned back into the forward position a moment before they were struck again.

"But I want to try to shoot their tires out," Riza wailed.

Roy hesitated before he spoke again, weighing, in a split second, the certain danger versus the possible reward. "No. If you have a shot out your side window when I turn right, take it. Other than that, stay facing forward."

"But…"

"I know that you're a great marks-woman, but have you ever practiced shooting a moving target while you were moving?"

"No, I haven't," she admitted with a sigh that turned into a grunt as Tammy's car hit them a third time.

Roy jerked the steering wheel and turned right onto the one-way street leading to the border crossing. At the moment that the two cars were at right angles, she took her shot. Her bullet ricocheted off of the rim of the hubcap, missing rubber by less than an inch. She was unable to get off a second shot before the angle between the cars changed. Tammy's car made the right turn and was behind them again. _Damn._

"I'm sorry. I missed."

"Oh, Riza. It was an impossible shot. The calculations would be so complex." Roy paused as he glanced at the rear view mirror. "They seem to letting up a fraction, though," he continued uncertainly.

"I did hit the hub cap. Maybe they realize I have a gun and are being more cautious."

"Well, that's great. We'll take anything we can get," he murmured as he looked both ways and ran a traffic light. Traffic had been approaching the intersection from both directions on the cross street, and while Roy had been able to run the light unscathed, Tammy's driver had to stop. Roy grinned at his successful maneuver.

But Riza's attempt to shoot out the tires had given Tammy the idea to try it herself. As soon as her automobile had crossed the street, Tammy leaned out of her window, and, having a much better angle than Riza had, she made the shot. The rear tire blew, and Roy struggled to control their swerving vehicle. The uneven plopping tire sound made him feel ill.

"We get out and run!" both Riza and Roy exclaimed, simultaneously.

Roy gave the wheel one last jerk so that the car faced sideways on the street, partially blocking it. He didn't think that another car could get through. Riza's door was on the far side, and she jumped out and waited for Roy to get around the car from his side.

He didn't want to leave the key in the ignition, and he was having trouble removing it. "Run!" he yelled. "Just run. I'll ca…" He shut up abruptly as a bullet whizzed by his cheek. The key finally came free, and he took off. As he ran faster and faster, he vaguely thought, _Are they trying to _kill_ us? Shouldn't they just be trying to _stop _us?_ He made it around the car, pumping his legs and more frightened than he had ever been as a small, young orphan handed over to a stranger.

The sound of the gun firing and the sudden cessation of Roy's voice caused Riza to halt in her tracks and spin around. Roy's eyes were wider than she had ever seen them, and she watched him shake his head and repeat, "Run!" in an agonizingly urgent voice. She took off again.

She glanced behind herself and realized that Roy was actually gaining on her. This surprised her, because she was naturally very athletic and ran all of the time. She had, um, noticed that he was lean and well muscled, but she hadn't ever seen him work out. Of course, he had been doing so many things for her that he must have had to alter his routine. And he was a _man_. They always had easier times maintaining their physiques.

She slowed down a little, anxious for his company. She needed to verify that the bullet had completely missed him. And while she knew that she could easily run the last two blocks, she told herself that she was conserving her energy.

He caught up to her and grabbed her hand. "Are you okay?" he asked.

"Are _you_ okay?" she replied. "Did they hit you?"

"Not yet!" He was wearing that grin, again.

"Oh, shut up and run!" she muttered and picked up her speed. Not wanting to relinquish Riza's hand or lose his, Roy accelerated, too. One-and-a-half blocks to go.

xxxx

"Get out, and move that effing car." Tammy screamed at one of the agents sitting in the back seat. The man slid from their car and trotted over to the Appaloosa. When he slid into the driver's seat, he saw that the fugitives had had the presence of mind to remove the key, his stomach clenched. Tammy was not one to separate bad news from the messenger. He slid out of the car, shrugged, and yelled, "No key…"

Tammy punched her driver's arm and said, "Bastards. Floor it, and ram it!" When he didn't respond quickly enough for her liking, she stamped on his accelerator foot. The car surged forward. Like a deer in headlights, the man standing by the offending car froze, eyes wide. Tammy had not even bothered to warn him. He managed to throw himself out of the way just before impact.

It took three strikes to move the blockage, and they took off before the agent, who had returned to the back seat, could shut the door. The misshapen black Appaloosa now belonged in a junkyard.

"There they are! Run them down already!"

xxxx

With Roy's hand in one hand and her gun in the other, Riza pushed one foot in front of the other. She knew that she could easily run for miles so _why were these three blocks so difficult?_ She had thought that her fight or flight instinct would kick in, that adrenaline would allow her to perform superhuman feats. But, it was more like a nightmare she sometimes had where she was being pursued by some unknown horror, and she was rooted to the spot. Every step was a struggle.

She and Roy were running in step, now. Side by side and close together. Perfectly synchronized. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see a pink spot developing on his cheek. It was no breeze for him, either.

They both heard the car approaching at the same time. Riza continued to concentrate on running, but she felt her arm jerk as Mustang twisted to look back. The pressure eased a second later when he resumed matching her steps. "My little obstruction didn't last long," he mourned.

"We'll take anything we can get," she replied, parroting his words about her missed shot. She felt him squeeze her hand in reply. One block to go.

They had been running in the street, but now she tugged him over toward the sidewalk. There were a few people walking there. She didn't believe that they would lose their pursuers, but surely Tammy would not drive onto the sidewalk or shoot into a group of innocent people. Or so she hoped, because being on the sidewalk with others slowed them down.

They could see the bi-lingual signs ahead. All information was printed in both Aerugan and Amestrian. There were four gates for vehicles and pedestrians at this border crossing. A block over was where the train crossed. The guards did not seem to be particularly busy. Two cars were waiting to leave Amestris, and the only pedestrian was a man with a cart loaded with merchandise. They were just a few yards away.

Suddenly, Roy felt his shirt being grabbed followed by something hard jabbing into a kidney. He slipped his hand out of Riza's hoping that she'd keep going. However, of course, she turned and saw Tammy's maniacal grin over Roy's shoulder. "Run. Go," he mouthed at her, but it was too late. One of Tammy's men had her.

Mustang and Hawkeye Breda were still standing amid several civilians. Tammy and her helper had let go of Riza and Roy, but they still had their guns trained on them. In all of the confusion, no one had yet frisked or disarmed them. Nobody noticed the black-haired man and the red headed woman meet eyes and then- barely- nod at each other. They silently counted to three and both dashed toward the gate, but they had only made it a few steps before they heard several menacing clicks. They looked around to find themselves surrounded by enemies. Four Amestrian soldiers as well as Tammy and her three men all had rifles or pistols aimed at them. Riza subtly moved her gun up her sleeve. This time, all of the civilians had been herded away, and it was only they and their captors. There was nothing to do but raise their arms in surrender.

Tammy holstered her gun and approached the two who had caused her so much trouble. First she approached Mustang. "You really screwed up, Pretty Boy. You are in deep shit. You should have thought with your brain instead of your dick. I think that you'll find that poking the slut wasn't worth it." There was almost a leer in Tammy's voice.

"Shut up!" Roy hissed. "Riza's innocent. You're the cheap bitch." He might have continued if Tammy hadn't punctuated his speech with a stinging slap to his cheek. Startled, he raised his hand to his mouth, and it came away bloody. He must have bitten his lip when he was hit.

"And _you_!" Tammy approached Riza. "Traitor, slut, and bitch. Piece of garbage. Just like that nasty ugly fat slob that you married. But even a piece of crap like Breda didn't deserve a wife like you. Your whorish self had hooked up with Mustang even before Breda took that dive. Well, he's lucky that he died, because what's going to happen to you is much worse. You can't imagine what Kimblee has in store for you. And you deserve worse than you'll get, sadly."

Riza stood stoically and said nothing, unless you count what her eyes were speaking. The insults against Heymans nearly caused her to lose her composure, but she knew she had to maintain it. Meanwhile, Roy wasn't doing so well. His deep jet black eyes, usually gleaming with intelligence or humor, were narrowed with fury. He began to yell at Tammy.

"Don't you dare talk to her in that manner. You really know nothing about what happened." He paused, but when Tammy threw him a scornful look and raised her hand to slap Riza, he jumped between the two women.

Tammy drew her pistol and shot at Roy. The bullet only grazed his inner upper thigh, but Tammy smirked. "If you don't behave, Pretty Boy, I'll aim a little higher the next time. What a loss that would be!" He didn't reply, but she aimed again. It was perhaps a tease, but perhaps in earnest.

The next thing Mustang knew was that he was on the ground. _Did she shoot me again? _he panicked. _Did she shoot me where she threatened to?_ He felt nauseous. Inhaling deeply, Roy checked his crotch, and it looked, well, normal. Not that he frequently looked at his crotch. He heard another shot, and what had just gone down became clear to him. Riza had kicked his legs out from under him, drawn her gun, and shot Tammy's gun out of her hand.

"Drop it, or I'll shoot. I mean it," ordered one of the soldiers. Hawkeye Breda complied. "Now! And kick it over there."

"You can't win," Tammy warned, picking up her gun and Riza's. "You're going to jail, and you'll probably be executed."

"I wouldn't be too sure about that if I were you," said a heretofore unheard voice. It had come from the gate area. Two armed Amestrian soldiers carefully approached the tense group.

"Who the hell are you?" raged Tammy.

"I'm Sergeant Silver, and this is Sergeant Argent. Mrs. Hawkeye Breda and Mr. Mustang have been granted political asylum in Aerugo. We have orders from General Grumman to escort them safely to the border." Roy, who, once he had satisfied himself that a certain part of his anatomy was intact, had stood up and was leaning slightly on Riza for support. They glanced at each other questioningly. Neither understood how that could have come to pass.

"Well, I have orders from Kimblee to bring them in. There are eight of us and two of you. Are those odds too complicated for you to figure?" Tammy snapped back.

"Well, ma'am, we would prefer to avoid a confrontational situation with you. The Aerugans are expecting Mrs. Breda and Mr. Mustang, and their government would not be happy with Amestris if the border crossing did not proceed," Silver told her in a reasonable voice.

"Like I give a shit," Tammy spat. "No one is going to start a war over these two. I'm keeping them."

"We have been ordered to see them safely over the border," Silver repeated.

"You two assholes and who else?" Tammy was sure she had them there.

"Us, ma'am," said an accented voice. From across the border. Everyone looked over to see a line of olive drab Aerugan uniforms. There appeared to be a full squad there, awaiting Silver's instructions.

"Now, please lower you weapons and disperse. General Grumman desires us to resolve this situation in as friendly a way as possible. You are free to go," he told Tammy and her people. To the soldiers he added, "As long as you follow General Grumman's orders, you will not be disciplined. The general understands that you had prior orders. Please return to your base immediately." The four soldiers snapped a "Yes, sir!" and saluted.

And, in a daze, Roy and Riza crossed into Aerugo.

The first thing that they did once they were safe was fall into each other's arms. He felt her arms tighten around him and told himself that it was just the emotion of the moment. Still, he kissed her hair and rested his cheek on her head. After discretely allowing the couple a few minutes to calm down, Aerugan officials escorted them into the customs office.

"We have orders to merely do the most basic paper work today, but you must return within a week to complete the process. You have reservations at the Bossa-Nova, but since you have been injured, we will escort you to the hospital first. You will have an audience with El Presidente tomorrow. Roy flinched, but Riza whispered, "It's okay. I know him pretty well." She turned to the official. "Do you know how El Presidente got involved in my situation?"

"Sorry, Senora. I do not."

They wrapped up the simplified paper work and made their way to the hospital. The official had wanted to expedite Roy's treatment, but Mustang insisted that he be taken under normal policy. The doctor gave him three stitches and no restrictions other than to return in a week to have the stitches removed.

At the hotel, they were shown to their rooms. Separate rooms. No more pretenses of being a couple. They smiled at each other, and Riza promised to meet in Roy's room in an hour.

The water stung his thigh a little but otherwise felt wonderful. His skin had begun to wrinkle before he emerged from the shower. The idea of getting back into his dirty and bloody clothes bothered him, but they had left everything in the car when they ran. He wrapped a towel around his waist and limped into the main room. His face split into a grin when he found his suitcase on the bed. _What the heck?_ _It's like we have helper elves! _He dressed and combed his wet hair and finally had time to think.

_I've really burned my bridges behind me. I guess that I can never go back to Amestris. What will Jean and Vato do? They must be totally pissed off at me._ He sighed. Despite the problems he had caused, he was fairly sure that he had done the right thing.

The knock at the door interrupted his thoughts, and he let Riza in. She looked tired, but clean and somewhat refreshed. Apparently her suitcase had also been delivered. "Let's call Fuery and see if he knows what happened," he suggested, and Riza nodded.

When Kain heard Roy's voice, he shouted, "Finally! Hold on a minute." Roy heard repeated clicks and whistles and held the phone out to Riza who shrugged. Perhaps Fuery was having technical issues. But then, Fuery, sounding extremely excited said, "Okay Roy. Is Riza there?"

"Of course."

"Good. Then we are all on line. I've got General Grumman…" Grumman cut in and asked how they were. "I've got Madame…" Roy looked shocked and worried. "And I've got Havoc and Falman! It's the most lines I have ever merged for a telephone conference!"

"Good for you, Kain," Mustang said. "Um, hello, Madame. How are you?"

"I'm nearly at death's door, Roy-Boy, or at least that's what your friends told me."

"Uh, I am so sorry about that, Madame. And sorry about telling you that, Havoc and Falman. It was kind of an emergency."

"I'd say it qualified," Madame soothed. "We're not _very_ mad at you."

"So, we thought that it was all over for us. How did the Aerugans get involved?" Riza queried. "We expected- rather we hoped that your soldiers would help, Grandfather, but wouldn't it be treason or something equally bad for you to contact Aerugo's government?"

"Oh, it wasn't me, Riza. I must have been so worried about you that I was being dense. When Madame got involved, I suddenly realized that Roy Mustang was related to Chris Mustang. I guess that this old man is losing it. Anyway, that was Chris' doing. Once she got involved, it was a piece of cake."

"Um, you know each other?" asked Riza.

"Um, how did Madame get involved?" Roy's voice sounded oddly timid.

"Well, after we got your note, we called Madame's to see how she was and how you were. Imagine our surprise when Madame herself answered the phone and hadn't known that she was so ill," Havoc cackled.

"And, yes, Chris and I have know each other a long time," the general stated. "She's a very resourceful woman."

"And, luckily, I've known El Presidente nearly as long as I've known your grandfather, Riza."

"Good grief, Madame," Roy sighed. "Who don't you know?"

"Where are you manners, Roy-Boy?"

"Sorry, Madame. I'm just so exhausted. Thank you very much for intervening and saving our lives. I guess that it's not the first time that you've saved mine."

"Well, for some reason your sorry self is important to me, Roy-Boy."

"Well isn't that sweet," interjected Havoc."

Fuery cut in. "I'm not sure how much longer I can keep all of us on line together, so why don't we get the essentials out of the way?"

Grumman announced that he had made copies of Kimblee's file on Riza and that it might help them in the future. For now, Riza and Roy would have to keep out of Amestris while their friends worked to exonerate them. They were welcome in Aerugo forever, if they wanted. Falman and Havoc thought that they should be able to maintain the band, at least on a part time basis. They could tour everywhere but Amestris, though avoiding Amestris would be a travel hassle. Arrangements were made to ship their belongings to Aerugo, and Madame and Grumman would see what they could do about finances. Finally, they all decided that they had discussed enough for the present.

Neither Roy nor Riza wanted to go down to the dining room, so they ordered room service. They had a feeling that they wouldn't want to see what was on television, so they left it dormant. After they ate, they lay next to each other in their clothes.

Roy broke the silence. "You know, I studied Aerugan for two years in high school, but I don't remember much. I'd really appreciate it if you could help me some with relearning it."

"Oh, I think that you'll pick it up quickly, but I'd be very happy to help you. We'll probably be spending a lot of time… Oh, sorry. I didn't mean to assume that you'd want to be with …"

"Who else would I want to be with?"

"Well, I know that you don't know anyone now, but you'll meet people and develop new friends."

"That's not what I meant. I value the time that I spend with you. I enjoy talking to you. I _like_ you."

Riza's thoughts prevented her from responding.

"I didn't mean anything by that. I know that you were just widowed and loved your husband. I just meant that I think we'd make good friends," Roy amended. Lamely.

She sat up and took his hand in hers. "Really? Because I'm not exactly sure about how I feel about you. It's a strong feeling… It could be because we've been through so much together. It could be because you rescued me. But it also could be that I do really like you."

She paused and then continued. "I think that we could be more than friends, that we could really have something. But, right now, I'm confused; my brain has been working overtime. I did just lose Heymans, and I do love him. It doesn't mean that I'll never love again. Eventually, I think that I will."

Roy nodded. "Then I admit that I really did mean that I like you _that _way, but I also sympathize with you and respect you. As well as _want _you. I would never push you."

She lay down again and snuggled up beside him and whispered a sentence in Aerugan.

"That was a little to difficult for me," he laughed.

"I asked if it's okay if I sleep here tonight."

"Ah. Si. Si. Por favor."

xxxx

**A/N- **I hope that you enjoyed the story. Thank you all for sticking with it. You've been great. Take care of yourselves, and final reviews would be loved! – dropout out.


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